Step With Me
by Welsh mama
Summary: Modern AU : When Sybil Crawley tracked down her teenage sweetheart, she didn't expect the flame between them to re-ignite. But a relationship with Tom Branson provides an unexpected complication, one which could change her life forever.
1. Chapter 1

_**There are two things that you should know about my new story, before I begin. 1) in an attempt to differentiate from my previous Tom/Sybil universes, I wanted to have them living away from London. It is commonly suggested that you should 'write what you know', so I hope you will forgive my self-indulgence in basing them in Wales. 2) for the purposes of this storyline, they need to be the same age and therefore, Sybil at least is a little older than usual.**_

_**I am going to attempt to post weekly, each Thursday. As always, your opinions are very gratefully received!**_

* * *

It had all been Gwen's idea anyway. When Sybil subsequently considered the origins of their relationship, she was certain that she would never have even entertained the idea of searching for him. If it had not been for Gwen's period of reflection in the weeks prior to her marriage, they would not have met again and he would have remained wholly unassailable within her memory.

The two women were enjoying a mid-week evening out in a newly opened bar on The Hayes in central Cardiff, clutching auspiciously large glasses of wine and discussing with animation the final details of Gwen's forthcoming wedding to Jonathan. Gwen was no 'Brideszilla' and had been relatively restrained with her planning and preparation, but with the date now less than a month away, the minutia were preying on her mind and she was pleased to have an opportunity to share the tribulations of seating plans with her close friend.

"I can't put my cousin Gareth on the same table as my other cousin, Rob because they had some massive fight two years ago and haven't spoken since. But their mothers are both my Dad's sisters and are staying well out of it so they'd probably like to be next to one another. And then as you know, Jonathan's brother, Ieuan used to go out with Rosie so that's really awkward too. She cheated on him two years ago and even though he's supposedly happy with someone else now, if he's on the beers then he's likely to go off on one after a while, so we've got to keep them apart."

Sybil raised her eyebrows at her friend's explanations, offering a silent tribute to her largely genial family, although in truth it was generally wise to place some distance between Granny and Isobel. "Wow, it's certainly complicated!"

"I know, sorry to drone on about it but it's doing my head in! It's our wedding, why can't they all just smile through gritted teeth and get on with it?"

"They probably will on the day" Sybil reassured, smiling as Gwen shook her head ruefully.

"Not once the drinks start flying, you know what the Welsh are like!"

"It's feast or famine!" Sybil declared with a grin.

"And if someone else is paying, then it's a feast day!" Gwen raised her glass. "Iechyd da!"

Sybil echoed her words, leaning forward to tap her friend's glass with a gentle clink. She had lived in Cardiff for almost five years now, after having secured a position at the prestigious Velindre Hospital, specialising in critical cancer care. The move had meant both a promotion from her previous post at the Royal Marsden in Surrey, as well as a welcome opportunity to escape the ghosts of a failed relationship during her tenure there. She and Gwen had bonded immediately on their ward and Sybil's more senior position had provided no barrier to a firm and long-lasting friendship. Initially they had both been single and shared many fun and often riotous nights out, falling in and out of love with a succession of eligible or more often than not, unsuitable men, before dissecting each relationship with a wry sense of retrospection and humour.

Two years previously, each had seemed happily settled – Gwen with Jonathan, a rugby playing friend of a colleague, who had recently returned home after three years in Australia, Sybil with Damian, a nurse at The Heath who she had met on a training course. However the traits which Sybil had found so endearing at the start of their liaison – a self-satisfied sniff when concluding an amusing comment, his blithe indifference to time-keeping, the frequently cited quotations of Jack Bauer – eventually created such intense irritation that she could no longer appreciate his finer qualities and had therefore called time on their relationship six months earlier. Gwen and Jonathan shared no similar issues of division, however and his proposal after only fifteen months together had been accepted without hesitation.

"So what does Jonathan think of these table plan vexations, then?" Sybil asked with a smile. "Shouldn't it be a joint dilemma?"

Gwen rolled her eyes while simultaneously smiling With affection at the thought of her fiancé. "Oh he's hopeless!" she declared. "He just says _'oh do whatever's going to make you happy sweetheart, don't stress over it.'_ Honestly, he shies away from conflict at any opportunity – apart from on the rugby pitch of course."

Sybil frowned. "Is that something you should be concerned about, do you think? I mean, I'm not suggesting that you evaluate your entire relationship, but it's not fair to pass every difficult decision your way."

"Oh I don't mind!" her friend replied cheerfully. "It means that he never really denies me anything! If I feel strongly enough about an issue, he always lets me win. I'll get to make all the big decisions in life – where we live, how many children we have, what they're called – because ultimately he doesn't want to have an argument, so that suits me fine!"

Sybil laughed, while inwardly reflecting that she wouldn't be satisfied with a similar situation. She wanted somebody with whom she could debate and exchange opinions, not an appeaser who would allow her victory regardless of her beliefs. On the other hand, she considered drily, perhaps that was the reason that she found herself once again single at thirty three, while most of her friends and contemporaries, not to mention both of her sisters, were contentedly settled. Nevertheless, she had never been one to accept second best and was adamant that she would prefer to remain alone rather than compromise her values and principles. There were plenty of advantages to living by oneself and she enjoyed the freedom and spontaneity which her current lifestyle allowed.

Gwen interrupted her reverie with a rueful sigh. "It does make you think though."

"What does?" Sybil replied as she took another sip of wine.

"Getting married. I mean, I'm madly in love with him of course and I can't imagine being with anyone else ever again, but I'm sure everyone thinks like that, don't they? But they don't all work out, things do go wrong and so how can you really know?"

"God, you're asking the wrong person here!" Sybil joked. "I've never even managed a two year anniversary, never mind a lifetime of devotion!"

Gwen didn't appear to be concentrating on her friend's reply, she was still gazing at the wall behind Sybil's head, her finger running gently along the rim of her glass. "I've found myself looking back quite a bit. Thinking about William and whether it could have ever worked out in the long run. I mean, once upon a time I thought that I'd marry him and then I changed my mind. How do I know it won't happen again?"

Sybil's head jerked back involuntarily in surprise. "This is the William that didn't want to ever leave the Rhondda Valley, right? Who thought that coming into Cardiff for an evening out was taking a walk on the wild side? Who couldn't see the point in you going to uni to become a nurse because you'd be at home with the kids soon enough and it would all be a waste, so you might as well be an auxiliary up until then?"

"Um yes... But he was very sweet really, I don't think it's very fair to only concentrate on that…"

"The man you described as so safe, he made Richard and Judy look reckless and irresponsible!"

"Well they did leave Channel 4 while still at the height of their success, but I see what you mean, Sybil – fair play."

"You're mad to even consider that he might have made you happy in the long run!"

"I know!" Gwen sighed wistfully. "But he was my first love and he'll always be special."

"He's allowed to remain special. Put him in a little mental box labelled _'Special Memories'_, then slap a few of the more annoying recollections around the outside and shove it to the back of your brain. Long lost loves have a danger of twisting your grasp on reality, they need to be handled with a large degree of caution…" Sybil nodded at Gwen's now empty wine glass "…and _never _while drinking! Now I'll buy you another if you promise to stop talking like this, otherwise I'm putting you on the train back to Pontypridd!"

"I live in Radyr now, I've escaped the Valleys!" Gwen replied with hint of sarcasm and Sybil laughed.

"I know, but you wouldn't have done if you were married to William. You'd be living three doors down from his Dad, like he and his wife do."

"That's true enough. But don't you ever look back at your first love, Syb? Who was it, that Larry who you said you went out with in the sixth form? Don't you ever even consider where life might have taken you if you'd stayed with him?"

Sybil pulled a face and shook her head. "Well my Dad tells me that he's a high flying banker in London now and you know what that rhymes with! Either I'd feel insignificant in comparison on my NHS salary, or would be bored shitless as his trophy wife – a life filled with low calorie lunches, regular blow dries and endless abdominal crunches in my efforts to restrain him from straying – no thank you. Now, last drink?"

Gwen nodded and Sybil went up to the bar. It wasn't busy on a midweek evening, there was no comparison to the noise and high energy created by the crowds who spilled out from the trains and suburbs into the city centre each weekend. However, for those bound by shift work, a Tuesday night could be treated as the equivalent of a Saturday and Sybil had nothing to get up for in the morning except a visit to the Post Office, a potential run around Roath Park and her boxset of _'Breaking Bad'_.

"Anyway…" she continued on her return, placing a fresh glass in front of her friend. "Larry was my first proper boyfriend, but he wasn't my first love."

Gwen's position shifted in her chair with interest. "Ooooh, that sounds intriguing - tell me more!"

"My first love…" Sybil paused for dramatic effect, her hand resting on her heart. "…was a boy called Tom who was in my class in Year 8 and 9. I lusted fruitlessly after him for two years, wrote his name endlessly in my diary, secretly planned our future and finally…" she waved her hand around with a grin. "…snogged him at the end of year disco when I was fourteen!"

"And then what happened?" Gwen was leaning forward with anticipation, her eyes displaying a mixture of excitement and light intoxication.

Sybil sighed, dropping her head with mock disappointment. "His family decided to move back to Ireland, where he was originally from. So he left and I never saw him again."

"Aww…" Gwen provided the appropriate audible accompaniment. "Did you not get his address or anything?"

Suddenly Sybil dropped her head into her hands. "It was tragic!" she laughed. "He came up to me on the last day of term. His parents had just sprung this move on him and his brother with no warning. Apparently, they didn't want them to fuss about it, so they only told them the day before they were going to finish school. We'd had the end of year disco on the Wednesday, then on the Thursday he'd even asked me if I'd like to go to the cinema with him in the holidays and then suddenly he was telling me that actually, he was moving back to Dublin next week so we couldn't do that after all, but we could write if I would like to?"

"And?"

"So he wrote down his grandparents' address and then the bell rang so I never got a chance to write mine down. Then I don't know what happened but I walked from school to the bus stop with my friend Anna, got the bus home as normal with my sisters, rushed upstairs to put his address in my diary…" Sybil waved her hands around in the air theatrically. "…I mean by this point in my mind, it was just a matter of time until I moved to Dublin! Clearly we were meant to be together! And I opened my bag and the address had gone! To this day, I don't know what happened, I guess it fell out at some point. I was distraught."

"I bet!"

"In fact, I had a complete paddy – burst into tears! My sisters both heard me and came rushing in. Edith was utterly unsympathetic and told me that I was ridiculous to get so upset about a silly boy, but Mary was surprisingly understanding. I mean, she was in the sixth form by then, so I guess she'd been through all those teenage crushes and could empathise a little. She'd just passed her driving test so she persuaded Mum to let her drive me back into Ripon and then we re-trod my route from school to the bus stop in an attempt to find it, but no luck."

Sybil tipped her head to one side, sticking out her lower lip in an effort to make her friend laugh. "And that was that! Teenagers didn't have personal email addresses or mobile phones back then, in fact I'm pretty sure that our parents didn't either at that point, so I had no other way of getting in touch with him."

"Didn't anybody else get his address?"

Sybil shrugged. "There was no way that I was going to ask one of the other boys if they had it, they'd have teased me mercilessly about fancying him. Our snog had been very discreet and in a corridor, so none of them knew that I liked him. Anyway, boys are hopeless at keeping in touch, I scarcely heard him ever mentioned again."

"He might have been equally heartbroken on the other side of the Irish Sea, pining for the girl who had forgotten him!"

"I doubt it!" laughed Sybil. "He could have written to me if he'd wanted to, everyone knew where I lived."

Gwen nodded. Although generally reticent in disclosing facts about her family's position, Sybil had shared the details once their friendship was firmly established, also confessing her official title – _Lady Sybil Crawley_ – and Gwen had now twice visited the family's impressive ancestral seat in Yorkshire.

"So do you know what he's doing now?"

"No idea."

"Have you never even thought to look?" Gwen narrowed her eyes in disbelief.

"You know I don't…."

"…I know you don't do Facebook and all that, I understand your reasons, but have you never even tried to Google him?"

Sybil shook her head smiling. "It's never crossed my mind to be honest. Look, I haven't even thought about him for years, it was only you going on about your first love and presuming that mine was Larry. It just suddenly occurred to me up at the bar that I was mad about Tom for ages so technically, he was my first big love."

Gwen reached below the table and drew out her phone.

"What was his surname?"

"Branson. Hang on, what are you doing?!"

"Just curious, that's all. You don't have to look if you don't want to but that doesn't mean that I can't! What did you say – Branston like the pickle, or Branson like Sir Richard?"

Sybil couldn't help a sense of curiosity, despite her instinctive reluctance to pursue the enquiry. A combination of press intrusion after their father's affair ten years earlier and the teenage bullying which had sent their cousin Rose into a spiral of anorexia and an attempted suicide, had left all three Crawley sisters opposed to any form of social media and Sybil in particular had made substantial efforts to retain her privacy in all forms.

"Tom Branson…" Gwen was squinting at her phone, as her finger tapped away. "…oh bugger, there's loads of them. Um…I'm just looking for Irish ones then…lots in America…Melbourne…Portsmouth…London…oh hang on, Galway." She pressed the screen and responded with an expression of distaste. "Oh that can't be him, surely? He looks about fifty!" Sybil leaned forward to stare at the outstretched handset, then shook her head with a grin.

"Definitely not, no."

"Um…come on, where are you? A-ha! Dublin, here we are! Oooh Syb, he's lush, is that him?"

At only a brief glimpse of the photograph, Sybil felt a light shiver pass through her body, astonished to witness the once familiar features of a boy who had grown into a man. "Oh my God…" she said softly and her voice possessed an ethereal quality, as if reality was temporarily suspended. "…he doesn't look any different."

Gwen turned the phone around for another look. "Really, is that definitely him?"

"Definitely." Sybil replied, clearing her throat in an attempt to sound less unnerved. "He just looks a bit older, that's all. I'd recognise those blue eyes and that smile anywhere. Does it say what he does?"

Gwen tapped with her finger and then sat still. "Let's have a look at his privacy settings….mmm he's got them pretty tightly set, but dear God Almighty, Sybil – it's fate!"

"What is? What do you mean?"

Slowly, Gwen twisted her phone within her grasp so that Sybil could once again read its screen. "He might come from Dublin originally, but look where he's living and working now!"

"Swansea" Sybil read slowly with surprise, raising her eyes to meet the excited gaze of her friend.

"Less than an hour away, Syb. It's meant to be!"

Suddenly Sybil felt uncomfortable at the way the conversation was heading and made the abrupt decision to bring it swiftly to an end.

"Oh for goodness sake, he's probably married with three kids, don't be so ridiculous! Right, we've had our fun and satisfied our curiosity. Come on, what time's your bus?"

"Why don't you at least contact him to say hi?" Gwen asked with a suspiciously sly grin. "I'm not suggesting that you email him with a proposal, but just drop him a line and say hi, saw you're in Swansea, how's life treating you?"

"I'm not joining Facebook just to send some teenage crush a half-baked message to let him know that I've been cyber stalking him. I've got a sense of pride!"

"I'm not suggesting that you join Facebook and anyway, one glance at his profile is hardly cyber-stalking! Honestly, everyone looks up their old friends and lovers on the internet. I'm telling you Syb, you're in the minority here. I bet he's done it. In fact, he's probably looked you up and been disappointed that you don't have a profile. I bet he thinks that you've dropped off the face of the earth!"

"I'm sure he's got much better things to do with his time." Sybil's mouth dropped open as she witnessed Gwen once again tapping at her phone. "_Now_ what are you doing?"

"Just googling him!" her friend replied, looking intently at the screen. "Yep! Got him."

Sybil observed silently as her friend continued to study her handset in detail, nodding solemnly and twisting her mouth into a smile.

"There!" Gwen declared. "I know all about him!" She pulled a face. "Professionally, at least. Nothing about his private life, unfortunately. He works at the university, looks as if he's done very well for himself. There's even an email address." She gave a sly smirk and lay down her challenge.

"I'll leave it up to you."


	2. Chapter 2

_**Thank you so much for your positive reactions to the opening chapter!**_

* * *

The bright glare from her laptop screen illuminated the corner of Sybil's otherwise dimly lit living room, drawing her eyes repeatedly in its direction through the gloom. During her last visit to Cardiff, her sister Mary had chastised her for leaving the device almost permanently open and on display, but Sybil's opinion was that anyone who went to the trouble of breaking into her flat was almost certainly likely to find it by rummaging in a drawer or wardrobe and damaging her property in the process. Life was easier for all concerned if she just left it out and could access it at her convenience.

She wasn't certain whether she wanted to go anywhere near it in her current state of mind, however. It was half past eleven, she had drunk the best part of a bottle of wine over the course of the evening and the most sensible decision would be to down a large glass of water and go to bed. However, Sybil was rarely drawn to the simpler options in life and her natural curiosity meant that at this precise moment, all she wanted to do was type the words 'Tom Branson University of Swansea' into the laptop's search engine and indulge her teenage passion by exploring its results.

For a few minutes she diverted her mind by playing with her cat, Samson who was indignant at her long absence for most of the day and evening and demanded her undivided attention, digging his claws gently into her knee if she paused for more than a few seconds. Sybil had never intended to own a cat and sometimes she worried that she was falling into a stereotype - _'unmarried woman in her thirties, living alone, sustains more successful relationships with animals than men'_. However, she had been persuaded, or indeed pressurised into taking him on after a colleague's divorce resulted in a move to a flat in which pets were forbidden.

"I'll have to give him to the cats' home!" she had wailed in despair, glancing desperately in Sybil's direction. "I don't know anyone who will take him on. He needs to be an only pet and he's not good with children, so I'll never see him again!"

Sybil was instinctively sympathetic to the desperate plight and her heart had been strategically wrung as she assured her grateful colleague that she would take on the responsibility and offered regular visiting rights. The woman moved to Wrexham with her new boyfriend six months later and Sybil hadn't heard anything from her since. However, within days of moving in, Samson had wound his way into Sybil's affections and it was difficult to remember having ever having lived in her flat without him.

He swiped the back of her calf with his claw in protest as she stood up and began to walk across the room to her laptop, its unremitting glow reminding her once again of Gwen's earlier challenge.

"Ungrateful creature" she muttered fondly as she extracted herself from his grasp. "Come and sit on my lap instead." Samson offered only a fleeting glance of disdain, coming to the conclusion that her attention had been diverted elsewhere and with a flick of his tail, disappeared into the kitchen. Within seconds she heard the familiar sound of the cat flap closing as Samson commenced his nightly hunt and she pulled a face in anticipation of a grisly discovery on the mat the following morning.

As she sat at her table and stared at the screen, her mind travelled back twenty one years to the arrival of Tom Branson in her class at Ripon Grammar School at the start of her second academic year there. At only twelve years of age, he exuded a confidence beyond his peers and displaying both academic and sporting prowess, was soon in popular demand by staff and pupils alike. Unlike many of his contemporaries, he avoided joining in with the occasionally cruel, but mostly jesting comments casually thrown her way – _'Creepy Crawley'_, or _'Lady Sybil – likes to dribble'_, were the two most popular renditions, but while he didn't actively defend her against such declarations, she always felt that he looked awkward at the nature of their exchange.

By Christmas, all the girls were in love with him and most of the boys wanted to be his best friend. Sybil only confided her crush to her friend Anna, who loyally declared that she would refrain from fancying Tom herself, provided that Sybil promised to avoid any feelings of partiality towards John Bates in the other form. At least two girls in their class declared that they were 'going out with him' at some point during the first year, although Sybil hadn't noticed any visible signs of affection from him. Tom was friendly and kind to everyone, so it was easy to imagine that he had an attachment to you by mistaking an affable grin or teasing whisper for something more profound. Certainly Sybil tried very hard to be objective when Tom looked at her intently, tipping his head to one side while she stammered her way through a sentence, blushing furiously at his attention. Her stomach performed frequent somersaults when he turned around in class and, on seeing her serious observation of his antics, gave her a wink or a cheery smile.

His father was a civil engineer, managing the build of a large pharmaceutical factory near York, its promise of 400 local jobs eagerly awaited in the region. He had been enticed from Ireland on a two year contract, but once planning permission had been achieved for the second phase of the project, Tom had confidently declared that they would remain in Yorkshire until he concluded his schooling. His elder brother was in Edith's class, studying for his GCSEs and as time passed, each boy spoke with an increasingly mild Dublin accent, interspersed with occasional Yorkshire pronunciation.

Although shy by nature and lacking in confidence about her appearance, Sybil had a small group of good friends and was happy at school. Her instinctive curiosity and inherent sense of injustice meant that she was outspoken at minor disputes between her classmates and unafraid to speak up in class. On one occasion towards the end of Tom's second year at the school, she had been later than her friends in returning to the playground after lunch and had witnessed John Bates being once again picked on by two boys from the year above. John had curvature of the spine, which left him with a mild limp and although he was vocal in self-defence and defiant at any suspicions of pity, he was subject to occasional cruel jibes. Sybil could see from a distance that he was making efforts to ignore the bullies, but when one of them reached out to push him and John had to reach out suddenly to steady himself against a wall, her fury was ignited.

"Leave him alone!" she yelled at the top of her voice, running towards them and wondering as she did so, what was likely to happen if they disregarded her plea.

"What are you going to do about it?" sneered one boy "d'ya fancy him then?"

"I just don't like bullies! What's he ever done to you?" She glared at the boy, who she recognised as the son of one of her mother's associates in the WI – somebody Green, she couldn't remember his first name.

"Stay out of it Crawley" his friend muttered.

"No I won't!" she replied defiantly, meeting his eye and ignoring the shaking of John's head as he implored her to move away.

"Well then…" Green sneered. "Perhaps I should do something to make you…" and he reached out to grasp Sybil's breasts, still underdeveloped but finally held in place by the recent purchase of her first bra.

"Get off me!" she hissed, narrowing her eyes as Green's flashed with irritation and he stepped forward for another attempt at intimidation.

Suddenly, she was aware of a shadow to her right and looked round to see Tom Branson crashing into Green, shouldering him into the wall and showing a hitherto unseen expression of aggression.

"Don't you dare touch her!" he said with menace and for a moment Green appeared likely to surrender quietly, before gathering his final shreds of hostility and raising a fist towards Tom.

"I'll get you for that!" he threatened, spitting at Tom's feet.

Tom didn't reply but held his gaze with defiance until Green conceded defeat and indicated with a nod of the head to his friend that they should depart. As he walked away, he turned suddenly, making a cutting sign to his throat and pointing at Tom, who offered no retaliation.

"Are you OK?" he asked Sybil with concern and she nodded hastily, glancing at John who appeared more irritated than grateful at the interruption.

"I'm fine. He wouldn't have hurt me, really. He's all words, but thank you anyway."

"He's a tosser!" Tom said with feeling and Sybil instinctively grinned in agreement. Tom's face broke into a wide smile to mirror hers and for a few seconds, until a concerned Anna appeared at their side, Sybil was unaware of anyone else in the playground.

From that day onward, Sybil's devotion to Tom reached new heights. It wasn't that she had needed to be rescued or required a gallant knight in armour, she was quite confident that she could have dealt with Green's menacing behaviour without assistance. Yet she knew that most boys would have interrupted with only a hesitant and joking concern – _'ah, come on - leave her alone, she's alright'_, rather than with the full force of outrage which Tom had displayed.

They were bound by their shared experience and exchanged knowing smiles and nods over the coming weeks and months, leading Sybil's imagination to become increasingly elaborate as she scrutinised every comment he made to her and secretly imagined what it would be like to kiss him. She had no experience of kissing beyond fond greetings from her parents and descriptions in '_Just Seventeen'_, however she had once witnessed her sister Mary kissing Anthony Gillingham before she emerged from his car outside their house one evening. Her subsequent flushed cheeks and quiet air of satisfaction indicated that it was a sensation with which Sybil would like to be better acquainted.

Her opportunity finally arose at the end of year disco. She and Anna agonised over their outfits, made clumsy attempts to paint their nails and re-applied lipstick immediately on arrival after Sybil's mother had insisted that she wipe off her first attempt. For the first half an hour, there was an awkward division of boys and girls across the still empty dance floor, but she smiled at Tom and felt quietly elated when he leant across to say hello after she crossed over to the drinks table.

Returning from the toilet mid-evening, he emerged from the main hall as she had been about to re-enter and greeted her with a beaming smile.

"Um, so what are you going to do all summer then Sybil?" he asked, appearing unusually nervous and rubbing the side of his thigh with a hand.

"Oh, nothing much really…" she replied, wishing she could entertain him with more enthralling prospects than reading numerous books in the garden and a two week family holiday in Scotland. "And you?"

"Er, I'm not sure. I'm still waiting to find out if we're going back to Dublin for a holiday, Mam and Dad seem a bit vague about it. But I'm hoping to be around, um…if you…you know…" he tailed off and Sybil's heart leapt at the sudden realisation that he might possibly be contemplating a mutual arrangement. A classmate walked past them, eyeing their exclusive discussion with narrowed eyes and Tom suddenly looked around him awkwardly.

"I want to ask you something…" he muttered and his feet shuffled slowly away across the foyer. Sybil turned around in curiosity as he nodded towards a nearby darkened corridor with his head, reaching forward to push open the door and turning once again to face her in the gloom.

"What is it?" she whispered, a combination of excitement and fear overwhelming her as she faced the prospect of either the most thrilling or disappointing moment of her life to date. All of her expectations were met as Tom suddenly lurched forward and his lips clumsily met hers. Their adolescent smooch was incomparable to the confident caresses that Sybil had witnessed on screen, nor did it match the air of elegance her sister had seemed to portray, but it was thrilling nonetheless. Neither of them knew what to do with their hands and in fear of overstepping any invisible code of conduct, left them dangling by their sides without purpose. It didn't last long and they both looked away with embarrassment at its conclusion, but in a moment of unprecedented bravery with the opposite sex, Sybil reached out to briefly hold his hand and was rewarded with a reciprocated squeeze.

Tom followed her back into the disco and they parted with only a knowing smile, their secret safe at least until Sybil confided in Anna while they later waited outside for her father to collect them. The next day during morning break, Tom proposed a summer trip to the cinema but the following morning, Sybil's dreams were shattered when he announced his family's unexpected return to Ireland.

For most of her teenage years, Tom Branson had represented the pinnacle of romantic desire against which no other boy could even begin to compete and it was a further two years before Sybil experienced her second and far less remarkable kiss. However, time gradually reduced her passion and the feelings of disappointment and regret which she held tightly for several years, eventually resulted in a fond sequence of memories which elicited little more than an occasional wistful smile. Boys grew up into men, Sybil committed her heart and body to others, and although none had ever delivered long-lasting happiness, their shared experiences had been more tangible than anything Tom had provided. She remembered him fondly, although in truth scarcely at all during recent years and was alarmed by how affected she had felt by seeing his photograph earlier that evening.

Feelings of teenage anticipation and excitement resurfaced as she reflected on the fact that he had remained an impeccable enigma within her mind. Their fleeting liaison had ended so abruptly that they had experienced no opportunity to tire of one another, nor learn that their shared characteristics may be more limited than first imagined. Tom would certainly not be a flawless man, yet in Sybil's mind he retained a teenage innocence and irreproachable manner. Contacting him now might crack the image of perfection she had retained for nineteen years. On one hand, this would enable her to mentally classify him with other disappointing objects of desire collected throughout her life, however there was something rather comforting about having a 'real' person scaling the pinnacle of faultlessness, competing only with the image of actors, rockstars and an occasional sportsman as her image of excellence.

Sybil glanced again at her computer screen and before her mind had even reached a conclusion, her hands reached out to type his name. Within seconds, a link appeared to the university website and closing her eyes in silent self-reproach, she clicked on it.

The photograph was more formal than the one she had seen earlier on his Facebook profile, but he retained the same easy smile and she could see evidence of early laughter lines forming around his eyes. Glancing below, she read his brief biography with increasing curiosity.

_Dr Tom Branson – Senior Lecturer in History and Politics_

_BA History and Politics (Trinity)_

_MA International Relations (Oxford)_

_DPhil International Relations (University College Dublin)_

_Dr Branson has joined us from University College Cork in order to implement our MA programme in International Relations, also establishing new undergraduate modules in Irish Politics and British-Irish Relations. He is currently undertaking a research programme jointly funded by the Welsh Assembly and the Irish Government entitled ' The European Union and its significant others'. He was the inaugural winner of the Ellen Grainger Award for outstanding research in 2009 while at the University of Cork._

Sybil felt momentarily overawed by his achievements, before reflecting that Tom was unlikely to be able to converse easily about the merits of psychological monitoring or resuscitation techniques. He hadn't displayed any indication at school that he might follow an academic path, however nor had she picked nursing as a career option until she was sixteen, so their respective professions proved how they had each developed since their formative years.

Impulsively, she clicked on to the university email address displayed with Tom's name and began to rapidly type.

_Hi Tom, I don't know if you remember me from your brief time at Ripon Grammar, but I've been reminiscing about my school days recently and using the power of the internet to see if I can find out what people are up to. Strangely enough, I'm just down the road in Cardiff, working at Velindre Hospital as a critical care nurse. I've grown to love Wales and hope you are enjoying your time here too. Hope life is treating you well. All the best – Sybil Crawley_

She pressed send before she could re-read or reconsider, shook her head in disbelief that she had succumbed so easily to Gwen's teasing suggestion and wondered whether she was ever likely to receive a reply.


	3. Chapter 3

In the cold, sober light of the following morning, Sybil spent ten minutes investigating email retrieval methods, before concluding that she didn't have sufficient technical know-how to establish whether or not it was even possible. She consoled herself with the thought that Tom was unlikely to be interested in hearing from someone he had known so fleetingly in his youth and would probably ignore her message, or at best offer a brief, concluding reply.

Nevertheless, she found herself checking her inbox more frequently than usual, chastising herself on each occasion for such emphatic interest and disguising the time spent on her laptop by researching dresses to wear at Gwen's forthcoming wedding.

After several hours of self-procrastination about going for a run and burning off some of the wine induced calories she had consumed the previous evening, she finally donned her sports attire and began a gentle jog around Roath Park. The area had been recommended to her by a colleague when she first arrived in Cardiff and she initially rented a studio flat in a nearby side-street. However, once she felt confident that she had made the right decision by relocating, she put her South London apartment on the market and began to look for a new home in Roath. Family members tried to persuade her to relocate to fashionable Cardiff Bay, where stylish new homes offered impressive harbour views and a nearby wide selection of bars and restaurants. Although she enjoyed a proximity to water, she didn't warm to the sleek, modern appearance of the development, preferring simply to visit the area on an occasional evening out or afternoon stroll. She was fond of her local suburb, where traditional, independent shops still thrived beside the high street chains and she made good use of its main selling point - the large expanse of parkland which provided her with a taste of the countryside, alongside its playground, boating lake and sports fields.

Of course she was extremely fortunate, as she reminded herself on a frequent basis. Even taking into consideration the lower standard of living in comparison to London, she knew that she could never have afforded to buy a home in the area without her parents' initial contribution. They had provided each of their daughters with the means to independent living and Sybil had subsequently swapped a compact one-bedroomed flat in South Wimbledon for the luxury of two bedrooms, generous floor space and her own small garden.

With her forty minutes of self-inflicted torture complete, she showered and changed, then invalidated most of her hard work by consuming a Kit-Kat with her cup of tea as she settled down with Samson in front of the TV and her highly anticipated boxset. Frustrated by the number of sales related emails she had received all day, she switched off the sound function on her laptop and exercised enough self-restraint to avoid looking at her inbox again until late-evening.

When she finally allowed herself another glance, it seemed utterly unremarkable to see his name on her screen, nestled between receipts from Tesco and Amazon, as if time had simply frozen for nineteen years. Of course, she had never previously received so much as a note from him, never mind any form of electronic communication, but regardless, the appearance of his reply did not feel in any way out of place.

_Hi Sybil – what a great surprise! Of course I remember you, the year 9 disco remains indelibly etched in my mind for some reason….! I had a great two years in Ripon and have many happy memories from the school and my classmates there. And now we are nearly neighbours, it's a small world! I've only been in Wales since September, but I'm enjoying life here. Somehow I'm not surprised to learn that you went into nursing, it seems to fit with the compassionate girl that I remember. _

_I go into Cardiff now and again, so if you ever fancy meeting up for a coffee some time and exchanging a few teenage memories, just give me a shout. It would be great to see you._

_Hope you and your family are all well. Take care – Tom_

Sybil's face broke into an involuntary smile and she felt surprised by her instinctive enthusiasm towards his suggestion. Her initial reluctance at contacting him now seemed meaningless and there was no way she was going to deny a chance to see him now that the opportunity had arisen. Tom had provided no clues about his domestic arrangements, but she had also refrained from sharing any personal information and although a small part of her was curious, her overriding wish was simply to banish her teenage ghosts and enjoy an opportunity to reminisce.

Briefly she considered waiting until the following day to reply, but then immediately disregarded the idea. This wasn't a form of courtship in which games should be played and responses analysed - it was purely two childhood friends meeting up for an exchange of information and an opportunity to satisfy their respective curiosity.

Swiftly, she typed her reply.

_Hi Tom, I'd love to catch up with you at some point. I work shifts so no particular time is best, but give me some notice when you're coming over this way and I'll see if I can meet you. I'll look forward to it. – Sybil_

She took the opportunity to answer another outstanding email to a friend before preparing for bed, but as she set the alarm function on her phone, couldn't resist taking a final glance at her inbox.

_Sybil, I'm actually going to the Wales game at the Millennium Stadium a week on Saturday, if you are about? I'm meeting friends in a pub at midday, but if you're free, I could get an earlier train and meet you in a café beforehand? If you're not around that day, or don't fancy the city centre madness on match day, don't worry and we'll sort something else out another time. Tom_

With a grin, she sent her response.

_Tom, I start work at 2.30pm that day so it's ideal. Meet you in The Plan café in Morgan Arcade at 11? I've seen a current photo of you, so I hold the advantage! Sybil_

ooOoo

Sybil felt unexpectedly nervous as she hurried through the city centre to meet him. The occasional red shirt worn by passers-by gave an indication of the afternoon's match but the vast majority of spectators had not yet descended into the area and she was surrounded mostly by the usual harried looking Saturday shoppers.

She was aware that she had given unusually long consideration towards what to wear for a brief visit to a café, but didn't feel that it was out of place to want to present herself in the best possible light for an old friend. Staring intently into the mirror earlier that morning, she had pulled at the skin around her eyes, scrutinising the lines which were beginning to emerge and wondered whether or not she bore much of a resemblance to her teenage self. She was almost a stone heavier than in her teens and her hair was cut into a sleeker style nowadays, but fundamentally she believed that she looked similar to the girl in the many photographs which littered her parents' home.

In an attempt to see herself from Tom's viewpoint, she reflected on whether she had achieved as much as she might earlier have hoped. Her childhood ambitions to run an animal sanctuary and save the world had been thwarted by naivety and the realisation that she had no desire to be supported indefinitely by her parents. For a short while she had considered the prospect of training to be a doctor, but had been put off by the many years of training involved, as well as her inherent desire to be a practical part of the day-to-day care on a ward. Two years ago she had secured another promotion and remained one of the youngest employees in her band within the hospital. However she was curious whether Tom might believe that she had taken the easiest option and settled for saving only individuals (including one cat), rather than the greater good. She often wondered if she was really making a difference, although the frequent praise delivered from grateful patients and their families indicated that she was part of a team who certainly tried.

Sybil didn't believe that personal fulfilment could only be gained through relationships and children and she enjoyed her life, filled with a satisfying job, a wide circle of friends and a close and loving family. Yet a small part of her wished that she was in a position to tell him that she had somebody special in her life, that there was a man who yearned for her above all others and could give the impression that her life had been successful in every respect. She was certain that he would be settled, his open and friendly demeanour to all would mean that he had probably left someone behind that morning with a lingering kiss and a cheery wave – _"Just going to catch up with an old schoolmate this morning, darling. Should be a laugh, if we get on then you should come next time too!"_

There was no sign of Tom on the café's ground floor and her stomach lurched suddenly with anticipation while she was climbing the curved, wooden staircase to the first. Familiar blue eyes twinkled at her as she emerged at the summit and he rose to his feet immediately, a wide beam stretching across his face.

"I'd have recognised you anywhere, Sybil!" he said, stepping forward to meet her and offering a cheerful kiss to her cheek. "You look really well!"

"So do you" she replied with a smile, meaning every word as she took off her coat and laid it over the back of her chair. He was everything that his photograph had suggested – broad, handsome and relaxed, a mature version of the boy she had once known. All of a sudden she became aware of familiar yet unwelcome sensations of desire as he looked at her and inwardly chastised herself.

'_Get a grip, Sybil. You're transporting yourself back twenty years into a silly schoolgirl. Be a grown up!'_

A waitress appeared to take their drinks orders and after her departure, Tom leant his arms forward on to the table and grinned.

"So, tell me what everyone's up to then. Who else have you contacted?"

"Um…what do you mean?" she asked in confusion.

"You said in your email that you'd been looking up various people from school, so I just wondered if I'd remember them?"

Sybil felt herself begin to flush with embarrassment. Of course that had been a fabrication of the truth, he was the only person she had tracked down and the reason was solely due to Gwen's sly persuasion.

"Um…well I'm still good friends with Anna Smith" she said hurriedly.

"You two were always as thick as thieves."

"She's Product Manager at a big tour operator in Cheshire. I usually manage to see her at least a couple of times a year. And then there's Thomas Barrow."

"Hmmm, I was never quite sure what to make of him" Tom replied, his eyes narrowing in recollection. "He could be really pleasant and friendly, but sometimes I found him a bit sly, as if he was trying to catch you out."

"Well he struggled socially at school, really. He came out shortly afterwards, which I think released him from his demons a bit. I think he was torn between wanting to be mates with all the boys but also fancying some of them, but of course he didn't want them to know. He's much more relaxed and fun nowadays. He's General Manager for an upmarket hotel in Leeds and is happily settled with his partner. We're probably better friends now than when we were younger."

"Well I'm pleased for him. Anyone else?"

"Um…er…" Her mind worked quickly in an attempt to cover her tracks, trying to remember who had attended the last Christmas get-together in a Ripon pub more than three years ago. She was aware of the glowing tint which was spreading across her face as she shielded the truth and was certain that Tom's look of amusement meant that he was not fooled.

"I'll tell you who I heard from…" he said with a grin, releasing her from the weight of recollection. "…about three years ago, through Facebook. John Bates – remember him?"

"Of course I do! He just seemed to disappear, I don't think I've seen him since we left school."

"He's a History teacher in an international school in Dubai. He's lived an ex-pat life since university and apparently loves it!"

"That explains why nobody's ever seen him back in Yorkshire, I guess."

"Well his mother's still there. His Dad died a few years back, unfortunately. He reminded me of that incident when you tried to fight off that arsehole Green who was picking on him, do you remember that?"

"Well I don't remember any fighting, just you coming to my rescue and pushing him out of the way."

Tom's face darkened momentarily. "Well he was trying to grope you, if I recall. I snapped."

Sybil smiled. "Well it seemed very gallant at the time. Although I don't think John was impressed by either of our efforts."

"He still remembers it, so I'd say he was. He also confessed to fancying your friend Anna for most of his time there."

Sybil's mouth dropped open. "Well why didn't he tell her, she was crazy about him!"

"Really?" Tom laughed. "Ah, teenage inhibition, eh? What might have been!"

"Oh I'll have to tell her, she'll be delighted! Although probably a bit annoyed that she never let him know and wasted her opportunity."

"Is she still single by any chance?"

"Yes as of a couple of months ago, she is again - why?"

"So's he. He mentioned that he was briefly married to an Irish girl, some time ago. He didn't share the details, just said that it didn't last long. Perhaps I should let you know when he next goes home for Christmas? He and Anna could hook up!"

Sybil couldn't help but giggle. "We've been here less than ten minutes and we're already matchmaking?"

Tom shrugged. "Why not? Who knows what might happen? All those unfulfilled desires from their youth, perhaps fate just needs a helping hand?"

"You sound quite the romantic, Tom!" she teased and he raised his eyebrows.

"Well I had plenty of unfulfilled teenage desire for a girl who took my address and never wrote to me" he said, meeting her eye with a challenging stare, then swiftly smiling to show that he was only speaking in jest.

"I lost it!" Sybil explained regretfully and he began to shake his head.

"I think that goes down with _'the dog ate my homework'_ as one of the classic get-out clauses."

"It's true!" she laughed before relating her sorry tale.

"OK, I believe you. I guess we'll just have to chalk it up as _'one of those things'_. I did mournfully check the arrival of the post each morning all that summer though, I'll have you know! It was my first experience of being disappointed by a woman."

"Oh dear, has that been a recurrent theme?" she asked jokingly.

"On and off. Don't worry, you didn't scar me for life."

"Well that's a relief. And are you happily married now?" It seemed a good opportunity to throw that question out and she couldn't help but feel pleased when he shook his head.

"No, neither happily nor unhappily. And you?"

"The same." Holding one another's gaze, Sybil felt the atmosphere between them shift a fraction and cleared her throat awkwardly as she glanced away.

"How's your family?" he asked. "I have to confess to being familiar with your father's voting record in the Lords as part of my political studies over the years. His name has always jumped out at me for obvious reasons."

"Are you going to hold it against me?" she asked, feeling instinctively defensive. "I'm guessing that you probably don't hold the same beliefs?"

"Definitely not, no. But I don't hold the sins of the father against his children!" Tom flashed her a grin and she inwardly relaxed. "But anyway, you have two older sisters, don't you? How are they doing?"

She nodded. "Edith's been a freelance journalist for various magazines, but she's on maternity leave at the moment. She lives in London and is married with a little girl, Esmé* who's five months. Then Mary is an Events Organiser, based in Manchester but she's working on next year's Glasgow Commonwealth Games Committee at the moment, so she's up there during the week."

"So she commutes?"

"Yes, weekly. Her husband and son are in Manchester, which is where she moved to when she worked on the Manchester Commonwealth Games in 2002. She's done really well, she's part of the top team this time, but they made the decision not to relocate and her husband, Matthew went part-time so that they didn't have to put George in full time nursery. He's not quite two."

"I see." Tom paused momentarily. "So do you mind telling me, because I've always been curious - what will happen eventually with your father's title?" He raised his hands in the air and gave a grimace. "Sorry, I realise I'm asking you about his eventual death, which seems a terrible thing to query, but I was just wondering, because women still can't legally inherit the title, can they?"

Sybil shook her head. "No. Mary will inherit the estate overall, but my parents have turned it into a business, so any additional profits will be divided between the three of us, although it's so expensive to run that I doubt there will be much to go around. The title goes to the nearest male relative."

"Who is…?"

"Matthew!" Sybil laughed. "Mary married him! He's our third cousin."

"How very practical of her!" he smiled.

"She's not as conniving as that makes her sound. We didn't really know him growing up, but there was a family tragedy in that my father's cousin and his son were killed in a motorboat accident about fifteen years ago. So Matthew's father unexpectedly became the heir, but then unfortunately he died a few years later. He was only really on Christmas card terms with my parents beforehand, but we got to know them once our cousins died and then Matthew and Mary genuinely fell for one another. It all sounds very convenient, but they are in love, I promise!" Tom laughed before Sybil continued. "Although I think Mary rather enjoys living on her own during the week, she's always been fiercely independent."

"And you live with….?" Tom queried and Sybil spontaneously made the decision that she felt relaxed enough in his company to have a little fun.

"Sam" she replied, wondering if she spotted a brief look of disappointment flash across Tom's face.

"And what does he do?" he asked politely.

Sybil gave a deep sigh. "Not a lot really. Sleeps all day, goes out most nights. Our paths cross very briefly. To be honest, he just takes advantage of me."

Tom's expression had turned to one of grave concern, his mouth opened and closed as he appeared to try and find the most appropriate response. "Um..right…and do you think…?"

"…but I forgive him…" she interrupted, offering a smile and enjoying Tom's obvious discomfort. "…because he's a cat!"

There was only a moment's pause before Tom burst out laughing. "I totally fell for it!" he admitted. "But I was staggered that you were the type of woman who would put up with that in a man."

"I'm not" she replied firmly.

"Good."

"And what about your brother? Kieran, isn't it?"

"Yeah. He's doing well thanks. Married with two little girls and living in a suburb of Dublin. He's very big in IT Systems Management but don't ask me exactly what he does, because beyond my limited internet use and putting together lecture notes and diagrams, I don't really have a clue."

"Me neither" she admitted. "I don't even do Facebook or any of those things."

"I know" he replied and she tipped her head with curiosity.

"I looked for you a couple of times" he admitted, appearing sheepish. "Well I looked for lots of people when I first joined, it was the _'in'_ thing to do. But then I looked once or twice after that to see if you were on there. So you see, you're not the only one who's been digging up the past!"

Once again they exchanged knowing smiles, although Sybil thought it wise to hold back any information about how she had been only reluctantly persuaded to search for him.

"So what brought you to Swansea, then?" she asked, changing the subject. "Was it just work?"

"Yes" Tom nodded. "It's a big step up for me, setting up the MA programme. I worked on something similar in Cork, but this is the first time I've ever had total responsibility. It was too good a prospect to miss…" he paused briefly "…and not too far from home, so it was ideal."

"I never had you mapped out for a life in academia, I must admit." Sybil cautiously added.

"Me neither. To be honest, I kind of fell into it as an excuse not to commit to anything else. I did History and Politics at uni because they were my main interests and then I decided to put off getting a real job and spend a year at Oxford to get my MA because I'd really enjoyed the International Relations module that I'd done as part of my undergraduate studies. Then while I was there, it gradually dawned on me that it was possible to actually make a living by continuing to do what I loved – research, lecturing people on my beliefs…" he flashed a fleeting grin at this admission "…helping others to learn and develop a passion for certain causes or topics. So I've simply deferred from joining the real world and nobody's brought me up on it yet!"

Sybil smiled. "And are you a good teacher, do you think?"

"I hope so. I've only ever had a couple of people fall asleep on me, but they were both known party animals, so I'd like to think it was only as a result of a big night out. I really enjoy putting topics out there and encouraging people to question what I'm telling them, watching them develop. I get a lot of satisfaction out of it. I expect you do from nursing too, do you?"

She nodded. "Most of the time, yes. There are always rough days, of course. When I'm up to my eyes in paperwork, or when you lose somebody unexpectedly. People hear the word cancer and automatically think that it must be permanently depressing, but on the whole it's a rewarding area to be in, because there are new developments all the time and people who might not have pulled through a few years ago now do, or their lives are at least extended a while longer. So are you happy to lecture only to undergraduates, or do you yearn to convert the masses over time?"

Tom laughed. "Well undergraduates are usually full of innocent enthusiasm and it's often quite inspiring to listen to their dreams and values, even though you can feel a bit worldly wise and cynical when you keep hearing the same naïve opinions voiced repeatedly. But I do speak to non-students from time to time. In actual fact, I'm doing a talk on Tuesday evening which is part of my funding commitment from the Welsh Assembly."

"For who?"

"For anyone who wants to attend, although I've managed to persuade several of my students that it'll be useful for them, so I'm at least guaranteed a few faces."

"What are you going to be talking about?"

Tom raised his hand to his mouth, giving a firm cough and his eyes flashed with amusement. "How Wales can benefit from the Balkans – Looking ahead to the next EU seven."

"Do you specialise in the Balkans then?" Sybil asked, curious at his choice of in-depth topic.

"No, I specialise in what Ireland and now Wales gets out of the EU and what they might achieve from their membership over time and this is only one element of my overall study. But that area is likely to form the next stage of EU expansion, so I'm slowly getting up to scratch with it all."

"It sounds interesting" she said. "How such a fractured region might have to work together within the larger Union. Do you think it'll create more harmony in the area if they find themselves arguing for the same causes or am I being too simplistic?"

"You know, I'm sure there'll be plenty of free seats on Tuesday if you're interested, because that just happens to be one of the angles I'll be discussing!"

"I'm doing an early shift on Tuesday, perhaps I'll come and watch you?"

Tom laughed, before realising that her suggestion was genuine, at which point he looked embarrassed.

"Oh honestly, you don't need to be polite. I'm sure you've got much better things to do with your evening."

"Well I haven't got any plans for that night. I'd actually really like to come, unless you don't want me to?"

"Believe me, I'd be delighted, but are you sure? Don't feel obliged, Sybil, you don't owe me anything."

"I don't feel in the slightest bit obliged. It's in my interest to know how Wales might benefit over the years if I'm going to stay here. I do have curiosity beyond the world of health, you know!"

Tom's face relaxed into a wide smile. "Well I very much doubt that we'll be beating them off with a stick, but I'll reserve a ticket for you, just in case." He gave her details of the location and time. "Just give your name to whoever's at the door."

"Does that mean I'll be on the exclusive guest list?" she joked and he grinned.

"Absolutely! It's a very elite group, by which I mean that it'll be you and a woman from the Welsh Assembly! Look, I'll even buy you a drink afterwards if you like? As an appreciation of your dedication!"

"Well then, I think you've sealed the deal!"

The two exchanged a mutual grin and Tom drew out his hand for her to shake in jest, before he leant back in his chair and casually glanced at his left wrist.

"I'm afraid that I've…"

"…got to go and meet your friends." Sybil interrupted with a reassuring nod. "Yes, don't worry. You said you had to meet them at twelve. Will you be supporting Wales?"

"Against France? Of course! But I've got tickets for their game in Dublin next weekend, so I'm afraid I'll be supporting the opposition on that occasion." He tipped his head to one side in a manner that felt so familiar to her from her youth that she instinctively felt transported in time, reverting to an age-old sensation of unsophisticated infatuation before she brought herself in line and cleared her throat.

"I don't feel as if I've asked you half the things I intended" he said, his face suddenly quizzical.

"Likewise. Never mind, we can carry on catching up a bit more on Tuesday."

"I'm glad." Tom opened his mouth to speak again before appearing to think better of it and instead stood up, lifting his jacket from the back of the chair.

"What were you going to say?" Sybil asked, her inherent curiosity building although uncertain whether or not it would be something she might want to hear. He paused for a moment, looking hesitant.

"I was only going to say that the time whizzed by and I wasn't sure if it was going to."

In a self-deprecating manner, typical of her instinctive humour, she grinned. "Did you think I might be particularly boring, then?"

"No, not at all" he said quickly, before appreciating her jest and offering a smile. "But just because you get on with someone as a child, doesn't mean that you're going to have much in common as an adult. It was possible that we might have struggled to have much to say after a few minutes, I was prepared for that scenario, that's all."

"Well then I'm glad to have surpassed your expectations!"

"In every way" he replied, leaning forward to give her a fleeting kiss on the cheek before he descended the stairs with a wave of his hand. Sybil wasn't so naïve as to believe his words meant anything beyond natural courtesy, but they filled her with a warm glow nonetheless and she was conscious of her face radiating a permanent smile as she made her way back home.

Before leaving for work shortly afterwards, she sat down at her laptop and typed a quick email to Anna.

"_You'll never guess who I had coffee with this morning…! And who had information that might be of particular interest to you…"_

* * *

**A/N – I'm posting this chapter shortly before leaving to go Christmas shopping in Cardiff for the day. It is my intention to break for lunch in The Plan Café, so I'll raise a cup of tea to our favourite couple!**

**The rugby matches which Tom attends are part of the annual Six Nations Championships, which takes place each February and March and consists of England, France, Ireland, Italy, Scotland and Wales. Wales play their home games at the Millennium Stadium in central Cardiff.**

***I reserve the right to subsequently alter the name and sex of Edith's child after the Christmas Special!**

**Finally - Happy Thanksgiving to all American readers!**


	4. Chapter 4

Sybil wasn't familiar with the road network in Swansea, it wasn't somewhere in which she had spent much time. However, her sat-nav directed her to a quiet side street close to the university campus and the community hall which was hosting Tom's presentation. An A4 poster advertising the event was prominent in the hall's external notice board, but there was little activity within the foyer and a young man waiting behind a trestle table greeted her with a wide smile as she entered.

"Have you come for the talk?" he asked eagerly, beaming in response to her friendly nod.

"Um…Tom Branson told me to give my name at the desk?" she murmured, watching as the man immediately reached to retrieve his clipboard from the table.

"You must be Sybil Crawley" he concluded, drawing a flamboyant tick on a piece of paper and she felt amused by his blatant enthusiasm for the task.

She was conscious of her anxiety on Tom's behalf that the event might be poorly attended. "Are there many here?"

"We've got about twenty, but it's only ten to eight, so I'm sure we'll have a few more before we start."

"Oh…" Her dismay was transparent and the man shook his head, flashing another confident smile.

"That's about what we were expecting. Tom's quite happy." He paused and offered another satisfied beam. "He's delighted you're coming."

"Is he?" she asked with bemusement, wondering if he was simply being polite, or whether Tom had indeed discussed the matter with him.

"Absolutely. Now please take a seat wherever you like. We'll be serving complimentary refreshments at the end."

Sybil entered the main hall, where an optimistic number of seats were laid out in meticulous rows. Tom was talking to a smartly suited woman standing beside him at the front, but he glanced up at the sound of entering footsteps and raised a hand in greeting.

As she strategically chose a central seat, nodding amiably at an older man who was already settled in an adjacent chair, she noticed two young women - one blonde, another brunette - turn their heads from the front row and stare at her intently, before looking round again and whispering to one another attentively.

Tom began ten minutes later than advertised, greeting last minute attendees with a smile and welcoming acknowledgement. He spoke with only limited notes, using his laptop to display diagrams on a screen from time to time, but also encouraged the audience to participate by asking questions to the floor and encouraging them all to give their own ideas and thoughts. He was a skilled orator and accomplished in directing the discussion - not allowing it to waiver off-topic when someone tried to divert with their personal opinions, nor embarrassing anyone who didn't wish to participate.

Sybil raised her hand at one point in the proceedings, feeling an unexpected sense of satisfaction in being able to answer his query about benefits gained by EU membership within the health industry. It occurred to her later that Tom may have included the question solely for her benefit, as he didn't subsequently dwell on the topic in any substantial detail, but flashed a grin in her direction when he saw her hand in the air.

"Miss Crawley, yes, what do you think?" The two women in the front row turned around to stare at her once again and she met the brunette's glare with a friendly smile, surmising with amusement that Tom had a jealous admirer. She was shocked to discover that it was half-past nine by the time the talk drew to its conclusion. In all honesty, she hadn't expected time to fly with the nature of the topic, but Tom had provided variety of tone and judged his delivery well in order to meet the interest of his spectators. She could appreciate his professional success to date and only wished that his performance could have been received by a wider audience.

As the youth from the foyer began to serve hot drinks and biscuits, Tom was in high demand from a succession of interested or fawning attendees. Sybil wandered to the side of the hall with her cup of tea, gazing at the pictures hanging on the wall and reading leaflets for various local causes which were laid out on a nearby table.

"Were you gripped at the edge of your seat?" Tom's voice appeared behind her and she turned around with a smile. He tipped his head to one side in his familiar pose, appearing momentarily unsure of himself until she gave him her verdict.

"Absolutely." she said solemnly, before offering an encouraging grin. "Seriously, it was very good, Tom. You're an excellent orator."

"Well thank you" He bowed his head in mock deference, then beamed at her. "It went very well actually. Thank you for your contribution, it definitely helps when the audience want to be involved. The Assembly lady seemed happy, so that's good! They won't withdraw my funding for the time being."

"Tom…" a female voice interrupted and Sybil turned to see the brunette from the front row now standing beside them. She was classically pretty, with symmetrical features on an oval face, although the amount of make-up she had applied deflected from her natural good looks. Long, glossy hair fell over her shoulders, which she flicked confidently away with a polished purple fingernail. She didn't look at Sybil, directing all of her attention towards Tom, who exchanged a friendly nod of greeting. "…I was wondering if I could talk to you about my essay for a minute please? I'm struggling with one particular section…"

"Sure. Um… excuse me, Sybil…I won't be long."

"No problem, I'll just be over there" she replied cheerfully, noting the young woman's sullen glance in her direction as she moved away. A peek at her watch indicated that it was now past ten o'clock and with a start she reflected on her early rise for work in the morning. Her journey home would take forty minutes and their proposed drink elsewhere was beginning to seem unwise.

"Really sorry about that" said Tom as he once again sought her out.

"I think you have an admirer" she joked and he rolled his eyes.

"Yes, I know. She's a nice girl, but I don't think her attention is solely on my fascinating delivery, unfortunately."

"I expect you have half the female undergraduate population falling at your feet, don't you?" Sybil laughed. Her intention was only to tease, but she couldn't help but feel curious about his reply.

"Not quite. It has happened before, but I don't take advantage of the situation, I can assure you."

"You wouldn't be the first lecturer to do so, I'm sure."

"No…" he said slowly, narrowing his eyes and meeting her gaze. "But I don't."

"I remember being a bit giddy about one of my lecturers at uni, to be honest" she laughed, not wanting him to feel that she was grilling him about his private life. "Not that it got me anywhere, more's the pity!"

"I can't imagine you being giddy towards anyone, Sybil" he commented with a slow smile. "You seem far too confident and together for that kind of behaviour."

"Well I'm glad the façade is working!" she laughed. "This was when I was only about nineteen. And anyway, don't forget that I was very giddy about you once!"

"Ah yes, but that was an extremely long time ago. Listen, I'm almost done, I promise. I just need to give Dan a hand stacking these chairs and then we'll go and find a pub."

Sybil pulled an apologetic face. "I think I'm going to have to head home, Tom I'm afraid. I'm on an early in the morning so I need to be up at six and I'm doing an extra couple of hours for a colleague at the end of the day as well. I can't afford to be shattered when I'm on my feet all day – I can't manage that these days! I'm very sorry to cut and run, but I'll help you stack the chairs first and then maybe we can meet up again some other time?"

Tom's dismay was visible. "Oh God, I'm so sorry and you've come all the way over here."

"I _wanted_ to come. You didn't persuade me. And I'm glad I did, but I should have thought about what time I needed to be home and let you know beforehand."

"Let me come over to Cardiff one evening?" he suggested and she smiled brightly, pleased that their friendship appeared to be on-going, whilst simultaneously avoiding any contemplation of her feelings beyond a jovial camaraderie.

"Sure! That would be lovely."

"I'm away this coming weekend, but what about the following one?"

"It's my friend's wedding, so I won't be around, I'm afraid."

"And then I'm away again the weekend after that."

"You're in high demand!" she joked and he made a peculiar grimace. "Something like that, yes. How about a week night?" He paused with a brief glance at the floor before returning her careful scrutiny. "Could I take you out for dinner, Sybil? Would that be OK?"

By the careful way in which the invitation was phrased, Sybil understood that an invisible line had been crossed and that his thoughts had now turned beyond an old friendship and pure nostalgia. She realised that she now found the man as fascinating as she had once found the boy and had no hesitation in giving her answer.

"I'd love that."

ooOoo

Sybil checked her appearance in the mirror once again as she waited for the doorbell to ring. She hadn't been on a first date for more than two and a half years, since she met Damian, and she had no doubt that this evening fitted into that category. However, she found herself in a unique position on this occasion – a comfortable familiarity, combined with the tantalising thrill of potential with somebody new.

Regardless of her initial hesitation in contacting Tom, she had never expected to rekindle their teenage romance. The idea that he would be available, in addition to once again finding him attractive, had never seemed a realistic scenario and it wasn't one which she had seriously contemplated. She was level-headed enough to acknowledge that an element of his allure was tied up with her memories of youthful desire. However, had she been meeting him for the first time, she was fairly certain that his good looks, intellect and natural charm would have aroused her interest regardless.

Opening her front door, she felt her stomach lurch with anticipation, although there was no sign of it in her expression as she offered him a welcoming smile. He was casually dressed, in dark jeans and a light blue shirt with an unbuttoned jacket indicating the cool March temperatures outside.

"You look lovely" he said lightly and she gave him a grin, never wholly comfortable when receiving compliments, but not wanting to shun them nonetheless.

"Thank you. I've booked a table at an Italian down the road, is that OK? It's my local really, but it's as good as anywhere in the city centre."

"Sounds perfect. Lead the way."

Five minutes later, they were greeted enthusiastically by the proprietor, Vincenzo and shown to their table. The restaurant was rudimentary but unpretentious, with a mural of Mount Vesuvius painted on one wall and photographs of rural Italian life tastefully placed elsewhere. The white tablecloths had seen better days, but a small vase of orange gerberas arranged on each table provided an impression of care and attention.

"He seems to know you quite well?" Tom said with a smile.

"Yes, I'm a bit of a regular. I bring most of my friends and family here at some point. The food's so good and it's very reasonable. I have to admit to picking up the odd carbonara take-away after a long and tiring shift as well from time to time. All I have to do is ring as I leave the hospital and there's my dinner…" she switched to an adept Italian accent. "Five pounds fifty bella, buon appetito!"

"I'm still sussing my local area out really. I haven't spent enough time there to really get to know it." Tom confessed, as he glanced the menu.

"Do you go away a lot then at weekends?" Sybil watched him as she spoke, but he didn't look up - continuing his menu perusal while giving an absent-minded nod of the head.

"Mmm…yes, quite a bit."

"Back home, or have you been exploring Wales?"

"Um…no, I haven't really made the most of being here, to be honest. I hope to, over time."

"And how was your rugby match in Dublin last weekend?"

He sat back and his chair and made eye contact once again. "Good, thanks! It was a bit of a non-match in the end because your lot won the overall trophy, but consequently it was a pretty good game."

"Did you go out on the town afterwards?"

"No…no I didn't." He picked up the menu again and studied it with intent concentration.

"I thought that was part of the ritual?"

"Usually yes, but…" He cleared his throat and looked up with a smile. "I just went back to Mam and Dad's for the evening. Anyway, weren't you on your friend's hen night? I'm sure you had a much wilder time!"

Sybil smiled at the memory of an entertaining weekend in Bath. "It was lovely. We went to the spa, did some shopping, had a meal out, a bit of a boogie in a club – great fun, thanks."

"Not too messy?"

Sybil pulled a face as she recalled helping a drunk and emotional Gwen into her hotel bed at 2am. "A bit. I was relatively sensible though, no raging hangover. I deposited the bride-to-be home and unscathed the next morning, so that's the main thing."

"Tell me…" she asked as they gave the waiter their order and handed over their menus. "Why did your parents move back to Ireland so suddenly?"

Tom leant back in his chair, giving a light sigh. "A multitude of reasons really. My Dad had the opportunity to work on a new shopping development in Dublin – it was the start of the great Celtic Tiger and there was a lot of work within the construction industry. And then my Mam wasn't very settled in her job in York and wanted to go back."

"What did she do?" Sybil interrupted

"She's a pharmacist, she's still working actually. A job came up back at the hospital in Dublin where she used to work and she was told that it was pretty much hers if she wanted it. And then I think they just wanted me and Kieran to reacquaint ourselves with Ireland. He'd just done his GCSEs and if we'd stayed another two years, the chances were that he'd have wanted to go to a British university, then I might have done the same. They foresaw neither of us coming back, I think."

"Do you think you would have done?"

"I don't know. I loved Yorkshire, I really didn't want to go back to Dublin at the time. It was a huge shock to be told during tea that tomorrow will be your last day at that school and oh, by the way, we're moving back to Ireland next week. I'd got a nice bunch of mates, I was doing well at school, got in the rugby team, found myself surprisingly good at cricket…" he flashed a smile "…had just discovered that the lovely girl I fancied might actually like me too! I remember shouting at my parents _'It's not fair!'_ and stamping my feet like a toddler. But in the end, it all worked out alright. I slipped back into the school I'd been to before we moved and you know, I love it there. I mean, I love the UK too and I'm happy to be back here again, but my heart will always be in Ireland."

"So is that why you chose Swansea? To have easy access home?"

Tom glanced down at the table. "Yes…sort of. The thing is…"

"And how come you chose the EU as a speciality?" Sybil had a mental list of questions she wanted to pose and was anxious not to omit one as the evening progressed. "I would have thought you might have chosen a more extreme area of International Relations –erasing poverty or helping people to fight for freedom or something?"

Tom gave a wry smile. "Well there are plenty of worthy causes out there and you can only specialise in one. I was interested in the huge disparity of wealth within Europe and the idea that we can bring very different nations together and share it out a little. It appealed to my socialist heart. Added to that, I can speak French."

"Can you?" she asked in surprise.

"Mais oui mademoiselle! I kept it up at school, then I spent a summer when I was nineteen working as a waiter in Cannes, got myself a French girlfriend and was kind of adopted by her family for a few months. I was practically fluent by the time I went back to uni."

"And what happened to the girlfriend?"

"She came over to visit a couple of months later, but strangely we didn't seem to appeal to one another as much in a grey, bitterly cold Dublin winter, so we went our separate ways after that! And then I spent another summer interning at the EU in Brussels, although everyone speaks English there, despite French being the official office language, so I didn't so much improve my language skills, as my in-depth knowledge of Belgian beers."

"I can speak Swedish." Sybil declared in an effort to match his linguistic abilities and laughed at Tom's expression of surprise. "A bit anyway. I'm not fluent."

"Swedish boyfriend?"

"No, I worked as an au-pair for the friend of one of my mother's American cousins one summer. She'd married a Swede and wanted some help with her children over the summer holidays. It was wonderful, they had a summer house up north and we went there for a month. It was like a postcard - crystal clear lake, wooden house, conifer forest. The children were bilingual but they taught me quite a few phrases and I made friends with a girl my age nearby. I rather fancied the idea of a Swedish boyfriend at the time, but sadly no opportunities presented themselves. I still keep in touch with the family and attempt the odd email to them in Swedish, but it's increasingly rusty now."

Tom's eyes seemed to sparkle at her revelation. "So you didn't see me as an EU enthusiast and I have to say that I wouldn't have put you down as a Scandi-lover."

"That's because neither of us really knows one another at all."

"No…" he admitted slowly, holding her gaze. "But I'm looking forward to the possibility of that changing."

Sybil gave an involuntary shiver - that unique sensation of feeling simultaneously cold and aroused in anticipation of the potential insinuated by his words. It was difficult to contain the teenager within her, whose instinctive reaction was to blush and giggle. However, she prided herself on having a presented a more mature impression up until this point and instead leant towards him with a look of unequivocal promise reflected in her eyes.

"Me too"

The evening passed swiftly and easily. Now that the formalities had passed and mutual interest had been laid equally bare, they could relax in one another's company and enjoy the opportunity for re-acquaintance. Memories were shared of classmates and teachers – _"Do you remember when…?"_ and Sybil found herself wiping tears of amusement from her eyes as they recalled the antics of others and their shared experiences.

They ordered a bottle of red wine, but with Tom later driving home, Sybil consumed the majority and became gradually aware of her increased volume and readiness to laugh out loud. Emboldened by the alcohol, she leant firmly against him as they stepped out of the restaurant and was rewarded by a gentle squeeze around her waist. Filled with heady excitement, she chattered happily as they walked, telling him about Gwen's forthcoming wedding and confessing that it had been her friend's provocation which had led to their renewed contact.

Suddenly Tom stopped and Sybil swung around to face him, her eyes quizzical.

"This is my car" he said with a smile, nodding his head towards the nearby vehicle, parked alongside the pavement.

"Oh! Right!" She was taken by surprise, so engrossed in her enjoyment of his company that she had failed to notice that they were already in her street.

"Do you want me to walk you to your gate?"

She shook her head with a half-giggle, her mind racing all of a sudden at how best to proceed. "No, I'm only a few doors down, you can watch me get safely in from here."

"If you're sure…"

She wasn't certain whether or not he was angling for an invitation, nor if it would be a good idea to even consider it. _'Nice girls don't…'_ she thought and her mouth twitched with mirth and fleeting recollections from yesteryear. She wasn't always a nice girl, but for some reason she wanted to be tonight.

"Would you like to go out again sometime, Tom?"

"Yes" There was no hesitation and his mouth curled slowly into a smile. Whether it was with amusement or anticipation she wasn't certain, but she took advantage of the signal and took a confident step towards him. Silent magnetism seemed to draw them closer and their lips met – cautiously at first, with slow exploration, but mutual confidence grew and Sybil felt familiar stirrings of desire. Her teenage self, contained within, wanted to giggle and issue a proud declaration – _'Guess what, Anna - tongues!'_, but she kept it at bay as she curled her arms around his neck and felt the gentle trace of his fingertips along her spine.

They parted and exchanged smiles - each shy, but also filled with wonder – their noses only inches apart.

"Well, that was worth a nineteen year wait" he said with a grin.

"Let's _not_ wait that long to do it again" she whispered and her hand reached out to hold his in a reprise of her action on that memorable evening, so long ago.

Tom nodded. "Agreed" he replied firmly and placed his mouth determinedly back on hers.


	5. Chapter 5

_**Thank you for all your lovely comments. So many of you have an idea about what the possible 'complication' might be - let's see if you were correct!**_

* * *

Gwen's final shift as a single woman took place two days later and Sybil had submitted a request to work alongside her. Amongst the usual hectic responsibilities of their day and the frequent pauses for congratulation by staff and patients alike, Sybil only teased her friend with hints of what had taken place during her evening out. If Tom had been disappointed that no invitation inside was forthcoming, then he gave no indication. They had made no firm plans to meet again, but neither could be in any doubt about their mutual expectations.

Finally, as the shift drew to a close and Gwen was bestowed with gifts and good wishes to send her on her way to matrimony, the two friends walked alongside one another through the staff car-park. Struggling to make herself understood from behind the large bouquet of flowers she was carrying on Gwen's behalf, Sybil finally shared her excitement at the turn of events – her grin partially obscured, but unremitting nonetheless.

"I don't want to appear smug, but…" Gwen laughed in a sing-song voice.

"…I know, I know, it's all your doing! Thank you, oh wonderful one, for pushing me to contact him!"

"You're welcome! So when are you seeing him next?"

"Soon…nothing fixed yet. Where do you want me to put these, then?" Sybil indicated her head towards the now open passenger seat door of Gwen's car.

"Just over b'there on the back seat, ta. Well you should sort something out, Syb! Don't hang about!"

"There's no hurry. I said I'd ring him after your wedding."

Gwen swung around to face her friend, her arms still clutching a large tin of Celebrations and a wide beam stretching across her face. "D'you want to bring him, maybe?"

Sybil shook her head. "Don't be silly…"

"…honestly, my cousin Rob's pulled out. Officially because of an unexpected work trip, unofficially because my aunt's read him the riot act about being civil to Gareth and he can't face it. We've got to pay for his place anyway, it's well annoying. Go on, ask him!"

Sybil stalled, torn between contrasting desires – on one hand the opportunity to see him again and have him by her side as she celebrated her friend's happiest day, on the other the nagging sensation that it was too soon. Having known one another so many years ago, it was easy to imagine that their absence from one another had been only brief and that they shared mutual ease and compatibility which in truth had not yet been earned. His presence by her side would mean an unexpectedly early public declaration and she didn't want to frighten him away.

"Um…"

Gwen spotted the hesitation and despite her unadulterated happiness, understood her friend's apprehension. "Well he's very welcome if you'd like to ask him. Only can you let me know by the morning because I'll have to re-print the seating plan?"

"I'll think about it. He's probably got plans, anyway."

"Maybe. But why not ask and just leave it to fate? It seems to have worked for you both so far!"

ooOoo

After almost an hour's deliberation, she finally worked up the courage to ring and ask him. It wasn't the idea that he might not be able to come that worried her, only that he might be free and yet not _want_ to attend.

"Do you have any plans on Saturday?" she asked in as light a tone as she could muster. He had sounded delighted to hear from her so unexpectedly soon and she hoped his upbeat pitch wasn't going to abruptly switch to something more conciliatory and uncomfortable.

"A pile of essays to mark and errands to run. Why?"

"Oh well don't worry if you've got things to do…"

"I could discipline myself into doing some of it on Friday night if you're about to make me a better offer. I thought you were going to a wedding, don't tell me it's off?"

She laughed. "No, it's all running at full throttle. But that's why I'm ringing. There's been a late guest cancellation and Gwen wondered if you would like to come?" She paused only momentarily before hurrying to conclude. "Don't feel obliged if you don't want to, it was just a thought."

His voice sounded upbeat and teasing. "What have you told her about me, then?"

"Well this and that, you know…not too much, I promise!"

"I love a good wedding actually."

"Really?" It was tempting to disbelieve him, to feel the need to reiterate the point that he shouldn't feel compelled. However, something told her to hold back and that Gwen was astute – fate would take its toll one way or another. "Well the only thing is that I'd have to meet you there because I'm going to be at Gwen's house in the morning."

"Are you a bridesmaid?"

"No, she's only having their little nieces, but I'm kind of supervising them and just being there for all the preparation really. I'm not on the top table or anything so I'll be with you at the reception. It's just a morning responsibility."

Half an hour later and feeling light-headed with relief, she received his text.

**Hotel full so have booked B&B nearby. See you outside church at 1.45 – T x**

ooOoo

Sybil squeezed Tom's hand as they waited for their turn to pass along the official receiving line. There were smiles and platitudes to the proud parents and an awkward grimace from Jonathan's brother and best man Ieuan who, aware that Sybil was friendly with his ex-girlfriend, was uncertain about her previous knowledge concerning Rosie's duplicity.

"Hello Mrs Williams!" she beamed at Gwen, leaning in for a kiss. "Congratulations again! This is Tom."

Gwen reached up and enveloped Tom in a hug. "I'm so happy to meet you!" she declared with a delighted beam. "Sybil's first love!"

Sybil spotted a twitch of amusement in his expression. "And she was mine" he replied solemnly. "Congratulations to you both – lovely service." They were preparing to pass further along when Gwen suddenly threw out her arms to make an unexpected declaration.

"Just think! This could be you two in a couple of years' time!"

Sybil froze and regardless of the occasion, glared at her friend. Tom appeared startled - his eyebrows twitched while his face wore an uneasy smile. The new groom attempted to make eye contact, his own expression one of mortified discomfort.

"Over emotional" he mouthed, waving his arms around in an awkward fashion. "Ignore her!"

Suddenly Tom grinned and patted Gwen, oblivious to any wrong-doing through her romantic allusions. "You'll be the first to know, I promise."

Sybil pulled him away from the crowds and closed her eyes with embarrassment. "Sorry about that…"

When she finally looked at him again, he was laughing. "It was funny! How many glasses of bubbly did you give her this morning?"

"I do apologise…" She felt self-conscious, aware as she spoke that she was sounding like an English version of her mother.

"Don't! Did you think that I'd believe you'd put her up to it?" He was teasing, but she couldn't contain the blush spreading across her face. "That I'd think this invitation was the first part of an elaborate ruse to get me up the aisle?"

With relief, she expelled a laugh. "No…"

"I've got far too much admiration and respect for you than to believe something like that Sybil, I can assure you!"

"Well that's nice to hear! Still, I wouldn't want you to think that…"

"…I don't think anything, Sybil. I can see that she's just over excited and wants everyone to share in her blissful state of matrimony. I'm glad you invited me. Honestly, I'm happy to be here with you."

Her discomfort was allayed and he wrapped an arm comfortably around her waist as they accepted drinks, while Sybil introduced him to colleagues who were also in attendance. Tom was easy company and chatted comfortably during the meal with those on their table – two nurses from Sybil's ward and their partners, a pair of Jonathan's friends over from Australia and Gwen's longstanding German penfriend with her husband and young daughter.

"Do I correctly surmise…" Tom murmured into her ear as they stretched their legs after the speeches had concluded "…that your colleagues don't know much about your family background?"

Sybil swung around to face him with a look of alarm. "Don't worry, I didn't say anything." he reassured. "I guess it's more of a hindrance than a help within the NHS?"

"It's an irrelevance." she replied. "Gwen knows, but nobody else does, at least I don't think they do."

"I think it's very admirable if you've never tried to use it to your advantage. I'm sure it can still open doors if you want it to, even though I fundamentally believe that it shouldn't."

Sybil nodded. "My sisters have made the most of it. Edith wrote a column in _The Lady_ for a while, although she doesn't anymore and now mostly writes under her married name. But it gave her a foot through the door into a very competitive industry, so while I don't agree with her choice, I can understand why she did it. And well…Mary doesn't care, I think."

"Is she a social climber?"

"No, but she puts the future of Downton at the forefront of all her ambitions. That's why she went into event management in the first place. Because she'll be in charge of the estate in the not too distant future – Dad will retire in the next few years and she'll take over the running of it, even if she doesn't officially have ownership at that point. As she's already discovered, being Lady Mary Crawley appeals to suppliers and contractors, on the whole. She's got far grander plans beyond the simple events and public opening that happen now."

Tom tipped his head with interest. "Such as?"

"Corporate events. She says that's where the money is, not just weddings and such."

"Don't you worry that she'll sell its soul?"

"No, I trust her. She loves it more than any of us, she's grown up knowing that it will one day be hers and she's spent her life planning for its future. And she follows my parents' ethos that it should be a local industry, supporting the village and environment. Almost everybody who works there, lives locally. If it was taken over by some huge hospitality company, they would inevitably employ the cheapest possible labour –it would be full of young, hard-working Eastern Europeans who come over here for a couple of years and then go home again. It would destroy local livelihoods."

"I hadn't realised that your parents have such a social conscience, I must admit." Tom scratched his head and looked uncomfortable.

"You thought they were just privileged aristocrats, intent on preserving their heritage for tradition's sake and their own benefit?"

Tom attempted a weak smile. "Well they produced you, so I knew they must have some good points…"

"But you disapprove in principle…come on, I know you do. You said yourself that you're a socialist!"

Tom sighed. "I disagree with the concept of nobility, yes. Not necessarily the inheritance of wealth. I'm not a communist and the basic principle remains the same really whether it's your father bequeathing Downton Abbey to Mary, or someone else leaving their kids a hundred quid. It's taking somebody else's earned money, but it's always going to happen - I get that. I object to your father having a seat in an unelected chamber though and being in a position to assist in governing the country."

Sybil nodded. "So do I in all honesty and it looks as if it will probably change sooner rather than later. But he does take the responsibility seriously. You may not agree with the policies he votes for or against, but he does a tremendous amount of research on every topic and doesn't treat his vote lightly."

"So he should! He's in a position of huge influence – of undemocratic supremacy. I should hope he lies awake thinking about the responsibility of it all!" He touched her arm lightly and she recognised it as a gesture of appeasement. "Anyway, as I said before, I've followed his voting record and I know that he's considered positively liberal in some circles!"

"Look how we first met" she grinned. "He sent his children to a state school!"

"Albeit a selective one."

"Yes, but my Granny was appalled at the time, she didn't speak to him for a week after Mary passed the 11 plus!"

He laughed. "I'm going to confess something to you now. My parents, who are also strong socialists, really struggled with their decision to send us to a grammar school for those two years. It was against their fundamental principles, but they were persuaded by friends and family that swapping countries and schools would be less disruptive for me and my brother if we had a stronger academic experience and so that's why we went there." He cleared his throat and appeared momentarily embarrassed. "I remember hearing them talking downstairs one time, soon after we'd arrived and my Dad said – _'There's even a bloody Earl's family there!'_ "

Sybil turned to face him. "Does it bother you? What's happening between us now? That our fathers are poles apart?"

Tom leant towards her and she revelled in the soft sensation of his lips meeting hers. "It didn't bother me at fourteen and it doesn't bother me now." With a fleeting grin, he waggled his eyebrows in a suggestive manner and whispered. "Who knows? Maybe one day they'll meet?"

And once again, Sybil was aware of the beguiling senses of promise and possibility, entwined within words and another gentle kiss.

As the evening neared its end, the guests concluded with the seemingly obligatory rendition of 'Delilah', sung at any Welsh gathering – its volume thunderous, arms swaying in unison, an amalgamated cackle at the appropriate point. Sybil was comfortably drunk - not enough to stagger or slur her words, but sufficiently intoxicated to feel light-headed with contentment and increasing desire.

"You know…" she murmured into Tom's ear as she wrapped her arms comfortably around his neck and he responded happily in kind. "You don't _have_ to go all the way down to that B&B. I have a very nice room upstairs."

Immediately she felt his hold on her stiffen and pulled sharply away. The embarrassment reflected in his face was sufficient to fulfil a wave of mortification and she stumbled over her words in an attempt at remorse.

"I…I'm sorry. God Tom, I didn't mean to…oh shit...I…"

"No, I don't mean it like that…" he replied in haste, his face twisting into another expression of discomfort.

"Sorry, I'm fuelled with alcohol. It's too soon, I shouldn't have…"

"Sybil, it's not that!" His tone held such urgency that she stopped her babble and stood motionless before him. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "It's just…I haven't been entirely honest with you."

In an instant, the bubble was burst. She felt a swell of anger at his implication and a sickening sensation as she considered that she had been taken for a fool. The nagging sensation of ambiguity which she had up until now ignored, bubbled to the surface – his frequent weekends away, a vague explanation about his recent weekend in Dublin, his desire for close proximity to Ireland – suddenly it all made sense.

"Can we go somewhere so that I can explain?" he pleaded and made an attempt to hold her hand, which was swiftly rebuffed.

Her instinctive reaction was to walk away. She had been in this situation on a previous occasion and had no desire to listen to his pathetic justification or weak platitudes. However, it was Gwen's wedding and she didn't wish to create a scene, nor cast any hint of shadow on her friend's happy day.

"Outside" she hissed, snatching her wrap from a nearby chair and forcing a smile at a nearby colleague as she walked by.

They passed the smokers on the patio, moving around the side of the hotel and standing in its shadow. The sky was overcast and Sybil could no longer see the expression on Tom's face, hearing only his heavy sigh as he attempted to speak.

She could hardly bear to listen, her twinned sensations of humiliation and hurt were enhanced by alcohol and she was determined to have an outlet for her fury.

"There's someone else isn't there?"

"Well, sort of - yes..."

"You utter bastard! What, did you think you'd have a bit of fun with me for a while and now you're having cold feet? Does she know about your new bit on the side or is she…"

"It's not another woman!" he cried and Sybil opened her mouth in astonishment.

"You're _gay_?" she screeched. He certainly didn't kiss as if his attraction to women was secondary.

"No!" His response was emphatic. "Not that there's anything wrong with…"

"Then what?" she interrupted with increasing frustration.

"I have a son."

The declaration was so unexpected, so wholly undeserving of her resentment that she was incapable of any appropriate response. "Oh…"

"I should have told you from the start."

"Yes…" and then in a more subdued tone. "…You should."

"But I didn't expect this…" He stepped forwards, the emotion now apparent in his expression as he approached her through the shadows. "…to fall for you again, for us to get together and maybe have something. I thought I was going for a coffee with my teenage sweetheart, a girl who I believed had lost interest in me the moment that I moved away, who had effectively rejected me. I thought it was going to be a one-off catch-up and I arrogantly decided to present myself in the best possible light. Somehow, being a part-time father as a result of a failed relationship didn't seem to fit that bill."

"You could have told me another time…after the café, we've seen each other twice since." she said, waspish accusation running through her voice. She wasn't prepared to offer forgiveness quite so easily.

"Yes and I nearly did. I wanted to. When we were in the restaurant the other night, it was on the tip of my tongue when we were talking about Ireland and then you changed the subject and I was just having such a great time with you that I didn't want to change anything. Then of course I hadn't expected to come to this wedding but I didn't think today was the best time either. I've been promising myself that I would tell you the next time we met…before it went any further."

"Like sleeping together you mean?"

"Yes. And I don't want you to think that I don't want to, it's just that I…"

She interjected once again. "What's his name?"

"Joshua. Josh. He's five and a half."

"And who's his mother?"

"My ex-girlfriend, Eddie."

"Eddie?" Her mind was still racing and reverted momentarily back to her earlier presumption about his sexual orientation.

"It's short for Edna, which I realise makes it sound as if she's unlikely to be under the age of eighty-five, but she's actually only thirty-one. Her parents were retro before it became fashionable to be so. She hates it, hence Eddie. Sybil, I'm so sorry. I know I've fucked this up. You're understandably angry and I've made it sound as if I'm ashamed of him, which I'm not. He's wonderful. He's the best thing that's ever happened to me in my whole life."

"So where do they live? In Ireland, I presume? That's why you go away so often?"

"Yes and why I only ever considered Swansea or Liverpool as possible UK bases. I go back every second weekend. They live in Kilkenny and every other Friday, I finish lectures at lunchtime, get the afternoon ferry and if it's on time and I don't get stuck behind a tractor en-route the other side, I can be there before eight and see him before he goes to bed. Then I come back late on Sunday night."

She could feel her anger beginning to subside, although his duplicity left her uncomfortable.

"So what, you stay at their house? Is it your house too? How does it work?"

"It's Eddie's house. We never lived together. I met her in Cork, we were together for about five months and then split up. Then we saw each other again one night with mutual friends, got drunk and…well had what I suppose you'd call break-up sex."

"Was she trying to trap you?" She wanted to inflict a wound of some form.

He sighed and she watched the cold air exhale from his mouth. "She has always strenuously denied that. But I have to confess to having my doubts. Anyway it's irrelevant now, she fell pregnant and that was that – it's a dual responsibility, I felt that from the beginning. There was never any doubt that I would support her. I think she hoped that we might try and make a go of it, but I knew it wouldn't work. The things which had driven us apart in the first place would never go away. But I always wanted to be involved, to take responsibility and I have been from the beginning. She came from Kilkenny originally and went back to live with her parents just before he was born. Then when Josh was eighteen months or so, she got a job as a primary school teacher, which is what she was doing when I met her, and soon after they moved into their own house. I mean, obviously I help financially, but it's her house. I just stay on the sofa-bed while I'm there."

Sybil frowned in an effort to appreciate their arrangements. "So you pretend to be a family every other weekend?"

"No, we do the odd thing all together, but mainly I encourage her to have a break while I'm there – go out with her friends and things while I babysit. I take him up to Dublin to see my parents quite a lot as well, so I'm not always there."

"I see." Her mind was spinning with a multitude of questions, but she felt suddenly exhausted and her desire for further explanations was quenched for the time being. The sounds of guests departing could be heard at the front of the hotel and voices on the patio were depleted.

"I realise this changes things, Sybil…"

"I don't know, Tom. I'm in a slight state of shock and I'm a bit drunk. I'm sorry, I don't think I can really think about it in detail right at the moment."

"I _really_ like you Sybil. More than anyone for a very long time."

Her sigh was loudly audible – a frustrated desire for things to be less complicated, yet she knew deep down that she didn't want them to part ways. Her attraction to him wasn't lessened, she was angry at his dishonesty rather than his situation.

"I like you a lot too. Too much probably, considering how little we've known each other."

"Will you go away and just give it some thought?" he asked pleadingly. "Mull it all over at least, before you send me packing? I want to be with you, but I mean, I don't know if you even like children!"

"Of course I do!"

"Not everyone does."

"Well I do. I adore my niece and nephew, I love being an auntie. I've always thought that I'd probably like to have my own one day, but anyway it's not so much about that, is it? It's about the fact that you have this huge responsibility away from here. I don't know if you really have time for me as well."

"I'll make time if you want me to, I promise. But I realise that I'm a less attractive prospect than I appeared half an hour ago."

She gave a rueful laugh. "I still find you very attractive, _that's_ half the problem."

"But the thing I need to explain, Sybil – and I realise that I'm possibly talking you out of any positive decision from my point of view – is that he's always going to come first."

"Yes." She understood, at least she believed she did. But she wasn't a parent, she had never experienced the unconditional bond that her sisters discussed, unified by motherhood in a way that no other experience had previously brought them together.

"I never planned on being this type of father, you see." Tom continued slowly. "I always imagined being there at breakfast time, putting my children to bed, being in love with their mother. So I feel that I've already fundamentally let him down from the beginning and I can't ever make that any worse than it already is."

"Of course."

"So what I'm asking…" he shook his head and paused for a moment. "…yes, I'm basically asking if you will have a relationship with me but for you never to be my first priority. It doesn't sound very desirable, does it?"

She didn't reply and had no idea what the ideal response to that question could be without appearing either superfluous or servile.

"Right, well I think I should probably head down to that B&B and leave you to have a final drink with the happy couple."

She nodded and saw sadness reflected in his eyes. "I'm really sorry to have spoiled your day, Sybil."

"You haven't" she conceded, feeling suddenly sympathetic to his plight. "I've actually had a wonderful day. The last half an hour has been utterly unexpected, but overall it's been lovely." She watched him smile, a flash of hope mingled with his contrition.

"But yes, you're right. You should go to the B&B and I should go and see Gwen and Jonathan. I need to sober up tomorrow and just think it all through." She paused and offered him a weak smile. "That isn't an outright rejection, I promise. I just need to consider it with a clearer head. But I'll ring you. If not tomorrow, then on Monday and we'll take it from there."

He leant towards her and laid a soft kiss upon her cheek. "Thank you" he said before slipping his hands inside his trouser pockets and walking slowly away into the shadows.


	6. Chapter 6

_**Thank you as always! As a result of the all the seasonal preparations and imminent festivities, (as well as my younger son's birthday on Saturday – a case of spectacularly bad planning on my part!), I won't be posting next Thursday (27th). The next chapter will be available on 2**__**nd**__** January. However, I am taking part in the Secret Santa fic-exchange, so please look out for my story (already written) over the festive period. Happy Christmas!**_

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Her contemplation was short-lived. When she awoke, stretching luxuriously in her spacious, king-sized hotel bed and reflected on the previous evening's discovery, she knew that she didn't want their friendship to end, nor continue under uneasy suspicion or resentment. It was advantageous, in many ways, that they had known one another previously. Regardless of the passing of time, they each had a tentative understanding of the other's fundamental personality, in the way that prospective friends or lovers usually do not. From Sybil's point of view at least, this meant a loyalty to preserve some form of friendship, even if they subsequently decided that any romantic attachment was no longer desired. With that in mind, she decided to trust her instinct and believe Tom's declaration that he had intended no underlying deception. After all, she had made every effort to present herself in the best possible light when they first met – by carefully attending to her appearance, reflecting on her career and apparently offering the persona of a mature, collected woman which certainly didn't match her own self-image. And Tom should be given credit for revealing the truth before he took her to bed. She had laid her desire clearly on a plate, yet he had not yielded and she felt that there was something touching about his integrity in that respect.

She was under no illusions that their relationship would be straightforward. Tom's principal priority would be with his son and while that didn't feel troublesome so early on in a courtship, she was aware that the issue may niggle over time. His frequent trips to Ireland were less of a concern. Sybil's shift patterns meant that she frequently worked at weekends and was accustomed to making less conventional social arrangements.

As she made her leisurely way into the en-suite shower, she considered with a smile that affairs of the heart can rarely be measured in the same objective way as other decisions. Although Tom's revelation provided plenty of arguments against taking their relationship any further, their mutual compatibility and her overriding attraction towards him were heavily weighted. Her thoughtful sigh, combined with a happy grin of anticipation while she stood under the powerful jets of water, signalled that she had arrived at a satisfactory conclusion.

She ate breakfast with her colleagues, surrounded by the muted yet happy chatter of the wedding party, and deflected questions of concern from the new bride.

"He was always going to stay at the B&B, Gwen and he had to get away early this morning. Don't rush us, it's all fine."

Cornered by Jonathan's brother, she slipped outside to assist him in decorating the newlyweds' car before they left for Cardiff airport and an onward flight to Kos. After enthusiastically waving them off, she took a curious wander through the Valley town in which Gwen had grown up, searching for a newsagent. The rugged beauty of the surrounding green peaks contrasted sorrowfully against the bleak town centre - charity shops and discount stores vying for custom amongst a once proud and industrious mining community, now battling to retain hope and expectation.

Her purchase complete, she drove home and spent a lazy and self-indulgent afternoon lying on her sofa with a pot of tea, _The Observer_ and Samson for company. Consequently, it was mid-evening by the time she rang Tom and heard the dual tones of anxiety and relief within his tone.

"Well I've thought about it…" she began slowly, choosing her words carefully. "…and I kind of understand why you didn't tell me at the beginning. I wish you had said something in the restaurant, but anyway, I do appreciate you being honest at the point you were."

"Thank you" he replied softly.

"And I don't want you to think that any of my deliberations are to do with Joshua himself. I don't think badly of you in any way for having a child. I mean…" she gave a light laugh "…I'm not a virgin, so it could easily have happened to me. And it sounds as if you've been a very responsible and loving father, so there's no issue there."

"But you don't trust me" he said flatly.

She paused momentarily. "I do trust you, actually. And I would like to see where this goes. I really like you, Tom and I think we might be good together, but I accept that you come as a package deal."

From his audible exhale of breath, she could tell he was smiling. "That's a good way to put it."

"But if I ever discover that you've lied to me again…"

He interrupted immediately. "I didn't lie, Sybil and it's important that you believe that. I omitted to tell you about him, but I did not lie. I know it's easy to say after the fact, but I promise that if you'd asked me the direct question – _Do you have any children?_ – I would have told you the truth. You asked me if I was married and I was half-expecting it to be the next question."

"Okay" she conceded. "I accept that. You're right, it wasn't an outright lie. So if you're still keen, I suggest that we just start again."

"I'm keen."

The eager manner in which he said the words caused her mouth to curl up into a huge smile and momentarily, she leant her head against her knees, raised up on the sofa before her. The less composed Sybil, the one which Tom had not yet seen, wanted to bound around her living room with glee – so many romantic disappointments over the years and yet still, her instinctive reaction to his ardour was one of joyful exhilaration.

She swallowed deeply and restored an expression of poise. "So, obviously you're going to see Josh next weekend, but how about I come over the following Friday on the train and we have a night out in Swansea?"

"Sounds good"

"I can get a late train back." She smiled to herself – _'or not'_, she thought.

ooOoo

He met her on the concourse at Swansea station and they exchanged clumsy kisses, smiling at one another with self-conscious unease. Their previously relaxed manner with one another appeared to have shifted and Tom moved uncomfortably from one foot to another, while Sybil glanced around, tucking a strand of hair awkwardly behind her ears.

"Um…I thought we could go down to the Mumbles…" he offered and she smiled brightly at his up-beat effort. "…there's a nice pub that I've got to know. They're doing some live music later, a sort of folk/blues singer – do you like that kind of thing?" He looked uneasy once again, visibly relaxing as she nodded. "I've seen him play there a couple of times before, he's good. They do above average bar food, so we can grab something to eat first."

"It sounds lovely."

"So, do you mind getting the bus?"

Sybil frowned, caught by an instinctively self-defensive reaction. "Why? Do you believe that perhaps I think I'm too grand for buses?"

The embarrassment on his face was instantly visible. "Of course not, no! We just didn't talk about what we were going to do tonight, that's all. I'm not sure what you were thinking of."

She chided herself for presenting such an aggressive front and felt her cheeks redden. "I just want to spend the evening with you, Tom. I'll go with the flow. It all sounds great – honestly."

Their mutual disquiet did not abate as they boarded the bus and Sybil found herself sighing inwardly, wondering whether their relationship had stalled too early on and if it might already be irreparable.

Turning towards him with a discernable effort at brightness, she asked "Have you got a photo of Josh that you can show me?"

Tom's expression instantly switched to one of delight. "Loads on my phone, yes. I won't bore you, but…hang on…this is my favourite."

He passed his handset to Sybil, who smiled at the sight of a joyful boy's grin –tousled blond hair, familiar looking blue eyes sparkling and a radiating sense of happiness as he stared into the camera lens.

"I took it in my parents' garden last autumn. Tom added, leaning over her shoulder. "We'd just been doing silly races, kicking leaves and the like."

"Do you mind me looking at some more?" Sybil asked and Tom stretched out a conciliatory hand.

"Please, go ahead"

She flicked her finger across the screen, absorbed by the montage of shots – Josh with a football at his feet, or bundled up in a thick coat and hat, one of him sitting on a sofa with his thumb firmly placed in his mouth – his attention directed elsewhere, on a fairground ride, sitting on some stairs, next to a Christmas tree. He was featured with an older couple, who Tom confirmed were his parents, then between two smaller girls – Kieran's daughters, Josh's younger cousins. Finally, there was one on the lap of a beaming blonde woman, her arms wrapped tightly around his waist. Despite the inheritance of Tom's blue eyes, Joshua's smile matched hers and Tom softly confirmed – "That's Eddie"

"Well…" Sybil declared, as she handed back his phone "…he looks like a very happy little boy!"

Tom nodded, glancing one more time at the final frame, before placing the device back in his jacket pocket. "Yes, I think he is, most of the time at least."

The tension between them appeared to have subsided a little and Sybil lightly touched his knee. "Considering you said yourself that the situation isn't ideal, I think that's a real credit to you..." she hesitated "…to you both."

"Thanks. He has started with a few awkward questions since he began school and realised that his situation isn't the norm amongst his friends. Why don't you live with us? Why aren't you and Mammy married?" He turned towards her and flashed a fleeting grin. "But he's also asked me why I'm not a Premiership footballer and why I don't have super powers, so to be honest, he's got fairly high expectations overall!"

They alighted at the Mumbles, although the rapid arrival of dusk obscured any view of its famous coastline. Settled in the corner of a traditional-looking pub – oak beams and brasses on the wall, their meals ordered and drinks in hand, Sybil resumed her cautious questioning.

"So did you have a good time together, last weekend?"

Tom flashed a smile and nodded. "The weather was awful…was it here too, yes? So that makes it quite limiting, especially as it's not my house. But I took him swimming and he had a friend's birthday party on the Sunday so I went and dutifully made polite conversation with all the other parents. We played some games, built a lot of Lego…made pirate hats."

"Very creative!" she replied with a smile and he returned her gaze with a teasing grin.

"I'll make one for you too if you like…come on, I can tell you'd like one!"

"You know how to treat a girl." The two of them exchanged amused smiles and Tom reached out to gently squeeze her hand. At last the uneasy atmosphere appeared to have shifted and there were signs of their previous relaxed camaraderie.

He cleared his throat. "He's coming over here next week, actually. For the first time."

"For the Easter weekend?"

"Well I'm going over and taking him up to Dublin for Easter, then I'm bringing him over on Monday. I'll take him back again the following Friday. I don't have any lectures for the next two weeks, so I'm catching up with my research this week and then I'll take a week off. It's quite a big thing for me actually, I've never had him on my own for more than a night before."

Sybil narrowed her eyes in surprise. "Why?"

Tom raised a fist to his mouth as he cleared his throat. "Eddie read something years ago that said a child shouldn't be apart from its mother…or primary care giver, for any substantial period of time before it's five. I'm sure there's something in it, but I'm not sure it really applies when it's the other parent. But anyway, I made it clear that I wanted to be able to take him away from time to time once he turned five and he was supposed to come over just after New Year, but then he was ill so he didn't."

"Seriously ill?" Sybil asked with concern.

"No, it was just a cold and chesty cough really, but Eddie got quite upset about the thought of him travelling." He paused and glanced away momentarily before offering a light sigh. "She's a bit over-protective, I think but he's her absolute world and she's there with him, day in, day out. I have the easy job – I just waltz in every second week and play 'fun Daddy', but she has to deal with all the routine and tedious parts of parenthood. So I bow to her better judgement."

Sybil nodded with solemnity, her instinctive sense of fair-play challenged by Tom's explanation. "I'm sure the law would be on your side if you wanted him for longer."

His head swung around and taking in his expression of alarm, she feared that she had upset the newly restored equilibrium between them.

"We've never gone down that route…" he explained evenly "…and I'm proud that we've never needed to. We've always sorted everything out between us quite amicably."

She nodded with a cheerful smile, not wanting to interfere when it wasn't her business to do so and aware that she could not possibly appreciate the difficult balancing act that Tom must have to contain with the mother of his child. Their meals arrived and they ate hungrily, then sat back to enjoy the rich performance of a young, local musician whose enthusiastic fan base populated the pub and mostly obscured their view of the small stage. It was nearly eleven o'clock by the time the crowds had dispersed and Sybil felt that enough genial conversation had passed between them that she could further satisfy her curiosity about Tom's circumstances.

"So what was your parents' reaction when you first told them about Josh's impending arrival, do you mind me asking that?"

They were holding hands companionably under the table and his thumb casually caressed her knuckle, causing an abrupt ripple of desire to flash across her body. Momentarily waylaid by lustful thoughts, she lost all interest in his answer, blinking rapidly in concentration as he considered his reply.

"Not at all, you can ask me anything, Sybil – I don't mind. I'd prefer that we can talk about things. Well, they had mixed feelings, really. On one hand, he was their first grandchild, so they were very excited, but of course they were disappointed that I wasn't having him within the security of a stable, long-term relationship. It wasn't what they ideally wanted for me or for him, but they adore him and have always had a great relationship with him."

"And were you there at his birth?"

"I was, yes." Tom leant back in his seat and with his eyes raised aloft, Sybil could see his mind casting back to the momentous day. "He was two and a half weeks early, which neither of us had expected. Everyone tells you that first babies are always late, so we were taken unawares. I saw Eddie's text at the end of a lecture and drove like a lunatic from Cork to Kilkenny, then of course he didn't actually come for another fourteen hours after I arrived. Her Mum was there and I think she was hoping Eddie would kick me out when it came to the crunch because they only want one other person in the delivery suite and of course I wouldn't have argued, because she was doing all the hard work, so she should have who she wants. But thankfully Eddie said that she wanted me there and…" he came to a halt and turned to meet Sybil's curious contemplation. "It was amazing. I mean, fairly horrible in the lead up…I expect you witnessed births in your training, did you?"

"Only a handful and it was a long time ago now. I found it quite horrific actually, it felt a bit too close to home for me."

"Well yes, as a bystander you feel pretty hopeless, but my God Sybil…" Tom's voice softened and he shook his head. "…when he came out and took that first cry. It was the most remarkable moment of my life. To know that you've helped create this little person and that he's entirely dependent on you." He smiled and Sybil watched the corners of his eyes crinkle in recollection. "It definitely heightens your feeling of masculinity. I felt like roaring…literally!"

Sybil grinned with silent appreciation before Tom concluded. "And when I was first holding him …I did briefly wonder if I was doing the right thing. I felt so proud of Eddie, that she'd coped with all the pain and that she'd given me this beautiful child…I fleetingly thought that maybe…just maybe, we should give it a go for Josh's sake. But I think it was just my emotions in overdrive, because I soon realised that it wouldn't be the best thing for him at all, that it wouldn't work and thankfully I hadn't said anything to her about it."

Sybil felt the squeeze of his hand once more and responded in kind. "Eddie's a great girl and an excellent mother, but we're not right for each other." His explanation complete, he turned to Sybil with a slow smile. Their eyes locked in mute admiration and he leant slowly in towards her until their lips gently met.

"I suppose…" he murmured with a regretful sigh "…we'd better get going if you want to catch a train home."

"Do you want me to?" she asked, feeling anxious nerves of trepidation. Her first advance had been abruptly rebuffed and regardless of the circumstances leading to the rejection, she was anxious not to overstep any intangible boundaries once again.

Tom's face curled into a wide smile. "No."

"OK then, I won't. There are plenty of trains in the morning, after all!"

His hands curled around the back of her head as he drew her close towards him and she savoured the taste of his tongue, her body responding while her mind reflected with excitement on the hours ahead.

They broke apart, smiling through a mutual gaze of longing before he replied, his voice hoarse with lust and anticipation. "Fuck the bus, let's get a taxi."

ooOoo

Tom unlocked his front door and stood to one side in order to let her pass. It was an unremarkable 1960's built first floor maisonette in a quiet street, on the other side of the city from the university campus.

"I've learned from previous experience…" he explained in the back of the taxi "…to live a reasonable distance away from the students. You don't want to be bumping into them every time you go out for a pint of milk. I'd rather be in a position where I need to drive to work if it gives me a bit more privacy."

Sybil stepped from the hall into the living room and her eyes were immediately drawn to photographs on a nearby bookcase – Josh sitting proudly in his school uniform and an absorbing shot of father and son, their arms around one another, identical blue eyes gazing at the camera, each possessing a contented smile.

"What a lovely photo!" she said as Tom stepped behind her, his hands gently encircling her waist.

"Thanks, yes it's a really good one…" he dropped a soft kiss on the side of her neck and it felt as if every one of her nerve endings came alive at his touch. "…Eddie took it actually, last Christmas Eve."

Sybil turned to face him, her arms reaching up behind his shoulders. There was more urgency to their kisses now and his desire was increasingly apparent as they held one another tightly.

"Are you going to give me a guided tour?" she whispered suggestively while his hands roamed firmly over her back.

Tom waved a finger wildly around in the air without taking a step. "Kitchen through there, bathroom off the hall, Josh's room on the left….um, my room on the right - come and see!" He stepped backwards towards the door, pulling at her hands and laughing in response to her instinctive giggle, each of them overcome by excitement and desire.

As they lay kissing on his bed moments later, Tom's palm creeping cautiously underneath her shirt, he lifted his head, parting from her momentarily and grinned.

"I think all my teenage fantasies are about to come true!"

Attempting to return to his previous task, Sybil's resistance was unexpected and he looked at her with alarm.

"Seriously, did you fantasise about us having sex when we were fourteen?" she asked with incredulity.

Tom looked sheepish. "Um…"

"God, I must have been so naïve and immature! I just fantasised about kissing you, maybe my hand on your bum, but that was about it!"

He shrugged. "What can I say? Teenage boys are randy beggars. I didn't really know what I was fantasising about to be honest, only the basic mechanics of it all. I'd like to think that I've learned a few finer tricks of the trade since then."

Sybil gave a seductive smile, raising her eyebrows in synchronicity. "Oh yes? What kind of tricks?"

"Well…" With unexpected deftness, he unbuttoned her shirt and gently slipped a finger underneath the cup of her bra. "I wouldn't have known to do this…" he murmured as he softly circled her nipple and grinned as her expression switched to one of mock solemnity.

"Right…I see and what else wouldn't you have known?"

Holding her gaze, he pulled at the bra until her left breast was exposed, then bent his head to take the nipple in his mouth. Sybil wasn't able to prevent the guttural sound from the back of her throat as his tongue gently caressed her.

"Okay!" she gasped, her shoulders arching in response to his touch.

"I wouldn't have known about that" he whispered while his hand began to travel down her body, unzipping her skinny jeans and slipping a finger underneath her pants. "Or this…"

Sybil moaned as her hips rose to meet him, her own hands reaching around him and pushing down beneath the waistband of his trousers.

"Tom!" she panted with such apparent urgency that he paused, lifting his head and looking at her with concern.

"I'm_ very_ glad that we decided to wait until we were older!"


	7. Chapter 7

_**Happy New Year! Thank you for all your reviews, both for this story and my Christmas one. I have had several requests to continue the latter and have been fairly easily persuaded to do so. Therefore I'm going to try and simultaneously further both over the coming weeks. Time constraints mean that I'm unlikely to be able to post more than once a week, so I'll aim to publish something each Thursday and my muse will determine which it will be each week. I don't think that 'Perk of the Job' will be particularly long, but I have some ideas as to how it might progress. Thank you in advance for your patience and apologies if you prefer one over the other and will therefore have to wait longer for updates.**_

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Sleepily opening one eye the following Thursday morning, Sybil took the opportunity to admire the rear view of Tom's naked bottom as it disappeared out of her bedroom door. Three nights together since their evening in Swansea had proved to be as thrilling and satisfying as she had previously hoped. Giving a soft sigh of satisfaction, she stretched her legs languorously towards the foot of her bed and felt the now disgruntled evidence of Samson's nocturnal presence beside her. His heavy slumber interrupted, he exhaled deeply before jumping softly down on to the carpet and padding away. Within seconds, Sybil could hear the rhythmical click of his collar strap colliding with his food bowl in the kitchen. Audible signs of the toilet flushing from another direction were swiftly followed by the sound of hurrying footsteps. She closed her eyes once again, offering no hint that she was conscious until the duvet was pulled abruptly upwards and Tom leapt beneath.

"Jaysus, your bathroom's cold!" he muttered.

"I know, I need to get a heater…aaghh!" Sybil's drowsy speech came to a sudden halt. "Your hands are freezing!" she screeched.

"Really?" Tom's voice took a teasing air and he rolled further towards her, placing one hand after another around her body and laughing as she squirmed and protested at their chilly discomfort.

"Okay, okay…." he conceded, cupping his fingertips around his mouth and blowing until the cold had abated. "How's that?"

"Much better thanks" and she snuggled close to him, bringing her lips towards his and entwining their legs. "What's the time, anyway?"

"Ten to eight"

"So much for your resolve to get on the road before morning rush hour then?"

"Mmmm…" he kissed her again and against her groin, she felt the first stirrings of his erection. "Your bed's too comfy, that's the problem. And what's in it is too attractive."

Just as her thoughts were beginning to turn towards a reprise of the previous night's amorous activity, he abruptly curtailed his affections, rolling back on to the pillow beside her and looking thoughtfully at the ceiling. "Why is it that when you don't have sex for a long time, you almost forget about it? Not completely, but it just stops being part of your regular life and that seems quite normal and unremarkable. Then when you do…" another kiss interposed his deliberations "…when you meet someone wonderful and gorgeous and you have the opportunity to make love again, it's all you can think about and all you want to do?"

Sybil smiled, appreciative of both the sentiment and truth in his words. Fortunately her job was usually so busy and demanding that there was little opportunity for her mind to wander, but occasionally this last week, sitting in the nurses' station with a cup of tea, her distraction had been visible. _'Are you still with us Sybil?' – 'Hello! Earth to Sybil, can you hear me?'_

"Well you're going to have to do without it for the next week and a bit, at least…" she giggled "…well I hope so, anyway! Until Josh goes home again."

Tom gave a nod, his hand casually caressing her hip while his mind seemed diverted. "Um…" he began, his hesitation apparent. "…what would you think about…um, well you can say no to this and it's got nothing to do with having sex by the way…would you fancy meeting up with me and Josh next week at all?" He came to a close and looked immediately apprehensive, turning his head to face hers. "Is it too soon?"

The question was wholly unexpected and Sybil could feel her heart beginning to race, although whether with excitement or anxiety, she wasn't entirely certain.

"Well you're the one who should be the judge of that, he's your son. Do you think it's too soon for him to meet me?"

Tom's look of unease hadn't faltered. "Well I wouldn't let him know the significance of it at this point to be honest, I rather meant is it too soon for you?"

"Er, I don't know…I'd like to, I think. This is all new for me, I don't really know the protocol."

"There isn't one. I don't make a habit of introducing him to girlfriends – in all honesty I haven't had many since he's been around, but he does frequently meet people who I explain are my friends. I'd prefer to just say that for the moment…" He rubbed his forehead in agitation. "…it's not that I'm trying to hide it."

"No, you're right. It's too soon to tell him, of course it is. It's very early days for us, no matter how enthusiastic we are at the moment. We're not teenagers any more, we're realistic and we need to get a lot further down the line before you even consider having that kind of a conversation with him."

Tom's look of relief was instantly apparent. "Thank you for being so understanding."

"Well I'm off work next Thursday if that's any good?"

"It sounds great. I was thinking of taking him to Cardiff Bay. He'll enjoy watching the boats and there's supposed to be a kids' science museum nearby. What do you think?"

"Yes, Techniquest, I haven't been but I've heard it's very good. I've earmarked it for a possible visit when Mary next comes down with George." She grinned. "I'll consider this my recce! And I could buy you both a pizza or something afterwards, how does that sound?"

"Wonderful…" he wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close once again. "I think _you're_ wonderful…"

"Prove it" Sybil whispered with deliberate provocation, her hand moving slowly under the duvet.

And Tom did his very best to oblige.

ooOoo

She could see them beside the railings, high above the water. Hands tightly held, both were peering through the parallel bars at an object out of sight and Sybil was aware of Tom speaking – his lips moving, a wide smile on his face as he glanced sideways at his son. She stood observing for a few seconds while Josh pointed with animation, pulling at his father's hand, his feet moving swiftly on the spot as if performing a fleeting dance.

"Hello!" she called out brightly behind them and each swung around at the sound of her voice, one with an expression of delight, the other offering only a curious gaze.

"Hi!" Tom leant forward with a wide smile, but closing in for a chaste kiss to the cheek, she could spot the tension within his expression of welcome.

"You must be Josh!" she said brightly, hearing the over-embellishment within her voice in her effort to portray nothing more than a friendly association.

He didn't reply, but squirmed on the spot, pulling at Tom's hand, glancing up for reassurance.

"This is my friend, Sybil who lives here in Cardiff, Josh. I used to go to school with her a long, long time ago. She thought she'd like to come along to the museum today."

"Is that okay?" she asked, offering a cautious smile. "Do you mind me coming with you and your Daddy? I've never been there either."

Josh smiled shyly "I don't mind" he said and his face turned around towards Tom again, who nodded approvingly and swung their hands back and forth in an exaggerated motion.

"Grand, well let's wander that way now, shall we? Then maybe we'll take a boat trip around the harbour after lunch." Tom indicated for Sybil to fall in alongside them, but as they commenced, Josh twisted his head behind them with a curious stare.

"Where's your child?" he asked and Sybil was momentarily bewildered by the question.

"Um, sorry?"

Tom swiftly attempted to explain. "Sybil hasn't got a child, Josh" and he turned in her direction to further clarify. "We met up with one of my colleagues and her little boy in the park yesterday, I think he automatically presumed that you'd have one too."

Josh appeared unsatisfied with this clarification and stopped in his tracks, looking quizzically again at Sybil.

"But why are you going to a children's museum when you don't have a child?"

"Ah…" Sybil crouched down beside him and attempted an exaggerated whisper in his ear. "I'm going to let you into a secret. I really, really want to see the museum and I'm not sure if they'll let me in on my own. So your Daddy said I could tag along and enjoy it with you, is that okay?"

Her explanation appeared to placate him; Josh gave it brief consideration and then nodded solemnly.

"I won't tell" he replied, leading Tom and Sybil to exchange simultaneous smiles. Falling back into line, they commenced their walk before Josh added in a serious tone.

"If anyone asks, you can pretend that you're my Mammy if you like."

For a fraction of a beat, Sybil froze in her tracks, before hastily trying to conceal her sense of unease with a confident stride. Although she understood that Josh was only colluding in her game of subterfuge, the implication within his innocently posed declaration felt somehow significant and she couldn't bring herself to look at the expression on Tom's face.

Entering the museum, Josh immediately raced away from them eagerly, coming to an abrupt stop at the first exhibit. Enticed by promises of buttons to press and levers to pull, his hands waved wildly in the air with excitement and he began to lean firmly against a young girl who was already in action, an unsubtle attempt to move her out of the way so that he could take part.

"Josh!" Tom scolded sharply and Sybil caught a brief glimpse of another side of parenthood – the public schooling of manners and fairness, wrapped up with the vocal reprimand expected by strangers when a child did not conform within appropriate boundaries. "You wait your turn please, no pushing." The girl's mother gave a tight-lipped smile in acknowledgement and Tom made a futile attempt to persuade Josh elsewhere for a short while. Finally his patience was rewarded and he jabbed at a button, beaming with delight as a truck then moved along the track before them. His curiosity complete, he bounded over to the next table and Sybil and Tom moved in unison behind him, but no sooner had they come to a halt, he was diverted elsewhere and so the pattern continued. They each made efforts to focus his attention on a particular item, explaining in more detail how it worked and trying to apply it to something tangible in the outside world. However, the enormity of so many interesting displays was too fascinating and Josh would simply nod with distraction before running along to the next.

"He has the attention span of a goldfish." Tom whispered with a grin. "Unless he's watching TV of course, at which point he can sit with infinite rapt concentration!"

They made their way to the museum's higher level where Sybil immediately spotted the image of a piano displayed on the floor. Tentatively stretching her leg, she poked at one of the keys with the toe of her boot and gave an instinctive chortle of pleasure on hearing its audible note.

"Listen, Josh!" she exclaimed, screwing up her face in an effort to remember the consequence of childhood piano lessons and poking at another two notes. Josh's attention finally held, she hesitantly began picking out the notes for _'Twinkle Twinkle Little Star'_ and then enraptured by her own success, moved on to _'Mary, Mary Quite Contrary'_.

"Always our favourite at home!" she exclaimed with a throaty laugh, raising distant memories of her once indignant sister.

Josh leapt forward from his silent observation beside Tom, no longer able to contain his excitement and in doing so, landed simultaneously on two keys, causing the adults to automatically wince. With animated delight, he lifted himself once again into the air and presented two more contrasting notes. Sybil stepped back as he ran up and down the keyboard with glee, before coming to a halt and turning to face her.

"Can you teach me please?" he asked and with a nod, she gently moved him alongside her, an octave apart.

"Just follow what I do" she explained and played three notes with her right foot, which he immediately copied. Cautiously and with an occasional error thrown into the mix, they plotted the tune for _'Twinkle Twinkle'_ again and Sybil felt uplifted at the boy's evident delight.

Tom stood to one side, arms crossed, his approval unmistakable.

"It's like the scene from _'Big'_" he observed and Sybil nodded with a smile, the same thought having already crossed her mind.

"What's big?" Josh asked, unable to resist a final series of bunny hops along the keyboard before he succumbed to the pressure of a queue of curious observers awaiting their turn.

Tom took his hand as they walked away. "It's a film about a boy who wakes up one morning and he's turned into a grown up and has to learn what to do. But he teaches all the adults to remember how to play and have fun again. And he plays on a big piano on the floor, just like this one. You're probably a bit young for it at the moment but we'll watch it together in a couple of years, it's good fun."

"Can we watch it today?"

"No" Tom replied in a patient tone, only the fleeting, accompanying eye roll providing indication of a familiarity with frequently repeated explanations. "I just said, in a couple of years, when you're a bit older. We'll find something else fun to watch later today when we go home."

Sybil was smiling at the boy when he turned his head towards her. "And would you like to come and watch _'Big'_ with us too, Sybil?"

Startled, she wasn't certain how to answer. "Um…" She didn't want to make any presumptions about the future, nor commit a promise to a child that she may be unable to keep.

Glancing awkwardly in Tom's direction, she watched him smile and gently shake his head.

"His concept of time isn't too good at the moment." he whispered. "A couple of years could be a couple of days in his mind. Don't panic, he's not plotting our future!"

Josh's attention was finally held by the water-play area downstairs, a myriad of trenches and waterfalls, fountains and squirters, which had him squealing in simultaneous delight with other children. The plastic apron provided by the museum was soon hanging off his shoulders and after a handful of half-hearted attempts at restoration, was soon abandoned for the sheer elation of being soaked.

"My colleague yesterday advised bringing a spare set of clothes." Tom said with a smile, tipping his head in the direction of his rucksack and pointing towards a couple of recently vacated seats nearby. "Come on let's sit, I think we might be here for a while."

Sybil rested her elbows on her knees, cupping her hand around her chin while she watched.

"He's a lovely little boy" she observed and turned her head marginally to see the anticipated expression of parental pride.

"Thank you. He seems to like you."

"Good…" She avoided any further eye-contact. The implications felt too stark and pertinent and her emotions were equally divided between elation and fear. Instead she changed the subject.

"I'm going to give the boat trip after lunch a miss if you don't mind?"

"Oh…" She heard the self-doubt in his tone and was quick to reassure that her decision had no bearing on their relationship, nor the tentative one created today with his son.

"I'm just not very good with boats. You know, since my cousins died?"

"Oh God, of course!" He sounded immediately remorseful. "I didn't think."

"No, it's silly really. To be honest, I've never been all that good on water, I've always been easily sea-sick. But since their accident, I can't help but feel a bit anxious as well."

"Well that's understandable." A long pause led to another cautious implication. "I guess that rules you out of taking a trip over to Ireland one day?"

Sybil sat back slowly up beside him, chewing her lower lip thoughtfully. "I would go" she said and turned to face him, knowing as she did so that their conversation was founded on more than the tentative concept of a short break away. "I have been on a ferry since. I won't let my anxiety completely prevent me from going places. I might need to stand outside on deck, but I would do it."

His gentle exhalation of breath disclosed the significance of her reply and they exchanged a smile of mutual comprehension.

"It's just pleasure trips really…" she added "…they don't give me much pleasure!"

"Fair enough" and he reached out to give her hand a brief squeeze, their first physical contact since the earlier chaste kiss of greeting.

"And as I told you, I've arranged to visit a friend at half three so I'd be pushing it for time, anyway."

"Yes of course. Is it a friend from work?"

"No." Her reply was unintentionally abrupt, but she was never entirely certain how to explain her connection with Eleri without sounding egotistically benevolent.

"Uh, okay" and she watched him raise his eyebrows before glancing away.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to sound rude."

"I was being nosy."

"No you weren't. I met her through a befriending scheme, but we've become genuine friends now, so the visit gives me as much pleasure as her."

"So what, it started as a charity thing?"

Sybil nodded.

"So, she's elderly is she?"

"Yes, eighty-three"

"And how often do you visit her?"

"Once a week. Sometimes I give her a call a few days later, if I'm going shopping and just ask if she needs anything and then I drop it by. But I've made a commitment to visit once a week. Unless I'm away on holiday or something, then someone else steps in."

Tom exhaled loudly and she spotted the admiration in his expression. "Don't…" she warned.

"Don't what?" he replied indignantly.

"Give me that look of awe. It's a very small commitment and as I said, I enjoy her company so there's absolutely no sense of obligation. Other people do far, far more."

"I don't. I give money in tins and all that, but I don't put myself out in any way. You deserve a bit of awe."

Sybil twisted a lock of hair around her finger, watching Josh's exhilarated animation with a boy around his own age. "Well you've got rather a lot on your plate with Josh and your respective locations. It was actually one of my colleagues who spurred me into action. She's got three children, a full time job, is Treasurer of her kids' PTFA and was involved with this scheme as well. And I looked at her and felt ashamed of myself. All that youthful determination to do make the world a better place and what was I doing? Working, socialising, lying on the sofa and watching a lot of TV. And with my background and everything that's been handed to me on a plate, I was embarrassed. I did absolutely nothing for anyone outside of my friends and family, except sign the odd petition, so I asked if I could get involved. I felt it was time that I looked out for someone apart from myself."

"Your entire job is looking out for people." He reminded and Sybil shrugged.

"And I get paid for it."

"Well I think it's highly admirable."

She squirmed beneath his scrutiny. "Don't…"

"You don't like compliments much, do you?" he said with a curious smile, but the discussion was suddenly curtailed by the arrival of a drenched but jubilant Josh, who stood beaming before them.

"Have you had enough?" Tom asked and Josh gave a nod.

"I've got a new friend called Ben, Daddy but he's going home now." He raised his arm towards a young boy, who enthusiastically waved back as he was led away by his parents and Sybil marvelled at the ease of young friendship – instant cohesion and fun without any distress caused by its abrupt conclusion.

Josh smiled contentedly at them both for a moment and then unexpectedly began to bounce on the spot. "Come on, come on, come on…." he said in a robotic manner, his gaze rapidly alternating between the two of them in anticipation, until Tom took his hand with a grin.

"Right, come on then - let's go and get a pizza."


End file.
